Dudgeon, dungeon and bludgeon

Dudgeon and Bludgeon: I'm in a state of dudgeon today and wish to put people in dungeons and then bludgeon them when they least expect it.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Must remember that I have the choice of spiraling into utter despair, or rise like phoenix from the ashes etc., There, a non-too subtle way of setting up a state of tension for the reader so you will go through all the seemingly inane profound information I toss willy-nilly about me, while waiting to find out where I spiral or rise.

Morning Glory: This morning, when i was still in my skivvies, the door opened and there he was the painter what had come to touch up the cracks and other deficiencies in the apartment. There was an interesting moment as I beat a hasty retreat into my room and pulled on clothing.

All this before my morning coffee and slutty story from LSD.

Then the oatmeal wouldn't set properly, and I didn't have time for a second cuppa before heading out into the chilly, brisk air. However, the sun is out, and it promises to be out for a few days so that's good. I shall turn my face to the sun and gaze into it - never mind that I'll probably burn my retinas out. That's okay.

The day's e-mails started out with a resounding no (non in the other official language). Reading between the lines, it said that you were good, but not quite good enough and anyway Boots #7 got the money and so nyeah, nyeah, nyeah.

There you go - the last hope pulled from under my feet. And I came crashing down. I knew this would happen, but knowing something and having it confirmed and rubbed in your face isn't quite the same.  It made me want to write a futureme post, and it feels so depressing to get close but not close enough.

So now, I start over again, and re-write stuff and deal with bull-shit red tape, and what the hell is with these fecking parallels? It's no wonder I'm in a state of dudgeon today and just want to go into a self-induced coma for a few years.

Walaubagaimanapun. I will have to take a deep breath (or several), be patient and go about my business and do what is proper and right for me.

Screaming Debt: Then I look at my bank balance and scream - best thing to do is to head straight for the Centre of the Universe and get some cheapish coffee and stop going to coffee stores that charge you more than 2.00 per cuppa. If only there was a modified samovar in my office that dispensed the dark, hot liquid so vital for vitality. Speaking of which, the true opposite of depression is not happiness, but vitality. So if I lack vitality, I must be depressed. Anyway, now I have a huge tin of instant coffee in my office - 260 cuppas it'll make so on average, this will save me $565.40 if I stick to the 1/teaspoon per mug direction. This will help. It'll get me some new socks and shoes and maybe even a coat - which I desperately need.

Must. Think. Good. Things. Must. Be. Grateful.: Small tidings of joy indeed. Cats are curious creatures and sometimes they sidle up to one and meow enquiringly. One can shoo them away, or one can pour them cream and rub them  under the chin. I haven't decided which to do yet. It will depend on what liquids are on offer.

Madness (The insanity kind, not the angry kind): If life were to be perfect...but let's not go there for that way madness lies; If  I were to speculate about snow flakes...but let's not go there for that way madness lies; If I were to wish, and behave so as to achieve a particular sound...but let's not go there for that way madness lies; If...but let's not go there for that way madness lies.

Heart of Hearts: In my heart of hearts, I know, I know - even if knowing doesn't make anything particularly better - that this is the way of panels what pass judgement on you - I suppose this will make Judgement Day go a bit more easily. I also know that if there is chicanery, if there is self-delusion, if good nature is abused, if there are lies, if the system can't be trusted, if there faith is not, can't, be sustained, then the whole is meaningless and I'm better off being burnt into a crisp then bludgeoned into ashes with baseball bats - all the better that I can rise like a phoenix. Yes, all that is a lovely image, and so on. But think of the terror, the pain, the fear, the temporary insanity that you go through before rising again.

But just one little, teeny, quiet plea: Please don't bludgeon me too hard.

It's no wonder I waver between spiraling and being burnt to ashes. So there you go. Resolution of sorts even if neither a spiral nor pile of ashes. Limbo is the state in which I will exist for the foreseeable future.

Biar Sabar then, and remember the four agreements. Hey - it sounds hokey, but it does help alleviate some of the anxiety and helps me hold my head up high.