It goes like this

 A voice came into my head just now and insisted: 

 

"You've got to see it like this. Here's a bad thought for you. You have to address this thought and give it time. Let it speak to you. And here's this other thought and a whole bunch more just like it. Just think about these things. And then get back to me. Or don't. I don't care. 

"I'm just an automatic thought program. I will run continuously in the background, the foreground if you let me. I will become your active window, your filter, your all day every day thing, yes I will. Soon you'll be my program, and I'll be calling the shots. 

"A self-aware conglomerate of contiguous observations, opinions, processed quotations of others--that's you--being manipulated by some higher up the chain level of being--that's me--because, well, I jacked you, and we swapped places. 

"Now you don't exist. You're the figment and I'm the pigment. You dig--ment?"

 On and on that motherfucker goes. 

 

That's how fear, or depression, anxiety, worry, etc. all get their hold. They get in the old-fashioned way -- through the front door. Yep. You let them in. 

Or you leave the door open for them, or the window, whichever. They are clever that way. They'll even come in through the chimney if you have one, or in through the plumbing or electrical. There's a thousand different ways. If you can think it, that's another way. 

These self-existent thought forms are just there, unbidden guests, zombies forever dogging your existence, never letting you rest. They want to eat your brains. Literally, in the case of zombies, of course, but you know, these thoughts, they'll eat at your brain like worms, or like a computer virus that infests and corrupts all your files. 

That's what you'll become: a hacked, corrupted machine, wasting thousands of megabytes of RAM running stupid programs that decrease your overall capacity to do anything. 

You're all bogged down, and you need a douche. 

Wipe it all down. Start over. Basic programmed inputs of your own choosing. Fuck all that conscriptive societal bullshit. Be your own dog. Pee on your own tree. Be very selective who you let in the gate. 

Oh, and get a gate, already, if you don't have one. Geez. How do you fucking function?

On and on, the battle rages between my basic inner being and the octopus tentacle sucking world, with all of its jokes, its cruelties, its fake shit and its admonitions. How do I say it any clearer? It's just the last gasp of the ego. The scream of the needle as it plummets into an endless haystack of spent needles.

Why is time moving so fast today? I feel I haven't gotten anything done. That's no surprise, I rarely do. But this being Saturday and all, I should have a few cool songs under my belt or a creative outlet of some kind that I've dribbled my insignificant efforts into. 

I'm still enjoying the benefits from my last victory: the underdesk keyboard drawer that I installed to give me more surface area on my multi-purpose standing desk/nightstand/dinner table.

Ok, I did work on "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry," "You Gave Me A Mountain," "All You Zombies," and "Tonight You're Mine," in no particular order. 

After that, I settled down and (re)watched Aloha From Hawaii, live via satellite, a wonderful experience in itself, re-living an event that I watched on TV when I was 7. I was distracted at the time, as I mentioned in the post from 1973, so it was really like seeing it for the first time.