I still hope

It has taken a long time to sit still. I needed to find the right balance of inputs, you know too much of anything sends me into a state of disbalance. So now I have consumed the correct amount. I have maintained my macros, for weeks now, the correct levels of daily nihilism and metamodernism, several q-anon threads, twitter posts from the early 2010s london theatre scene, a costly mistake of a blog from 2016, some overpriced fizzy water.

You know, just right.

So hello. We’re all here. All the versions of me that could have existed are untied from each other, a cloud. United in time and purpose, naturally enough. Who would be writing this otherwise?

A phone is ringing in my past, the person on the line has a warning for me, their nose is numb from the cold of the river bank where they sat. The silly being jumped in because they were an idiot.

“Hello this is all a great idea, if you don’t write every day you’ll never exist.”

“Oh ok, thanks for calling.”

“There’s more

“YEah I’m sure there is,

But I’ve already hung up, who wants to get teachers best phone call lectured by a 22year old? 

Probably me at 13, I would have loved that level of certainty.

But now I’m older enough to be thinking that it a danger, a tough fanatic’s grip, that kind of mind. I try not to be too certain, or too loose with it these days.

There is an app with the city on it, behind glass, then in the city is the city surrounding me as I hold that app. Go around confused about whats flat symbols or 4D chaos and you’ll get tooth ache, heart palpitations, thought cramps, twitchy legs at night syndrome and all whole slew o’ maladies.

Officially bad cognition and no mistake.

So of course there’s the nothing temptation, greasy pit, barely more than alive and shitting, but it is so dull. Drab-dreary and dear in years, as in it will cost you a few. Can’t make that mistake too often or the ride gets to feel short as shit and it’s done.

So enough tension to stand, walk, etc, but not much more than that. Mind massages help. Like how you’ve been witnessing here. Yummy old brain, kneading out good words for you my very favourite person to be absorbed by.

Look at the tiny me in your head.

Does it have my voice?

Hey, how’s it going?

Ah, god, what the fuck am I doing these days. I guess I’m getting back into things.

There he was that little homunculus, padding around in your imagination. We made it together, of course it’s funnier if you know me I guess. But you’ll have got the idea either way.

I hope.