I’ve come down with some kind of infection and I’m having nitemares again; a lovely combination of delirium and cold sweats. On some levels, I really think they’re wrong about time healing the mental wound. It’s only more jarring when it comes around again.
Time helps to blur the edges, but is that really healing? I’ve grown from my experiences, but that’s not the same either. In my weakened state, I contemplate god again. I’m looking forward to the transition of this energy.
I’m wishing for simple things again, but I’m also still feeling handsy. How much information do we gain with hands that goes beyond demographics and how does that translate?
There’s a static in the air again. This year’s haunted house is just days away. The promise of grown men screaming and jumping lifts my spirits. This must be what masculinity feels like.
I keep coming back to Japan. It’s a theme I quite enjoy. The grass is greener on the other side. The possibilities are infinite.
Romanticizing a bit, I suppose, but I’ve been obsessed with Japan and social sciences since childhood. Those early influences of culture were shockingly exciting for my young eyes. Anime changed my life.
Coming out of the contagious haze, there’s a stillness that is to be enjoyed; a kind of clarity felt after a hallucinogenic experience that somehow seems therapeutic.
