On Being Broke

Broken inside but still ticking
No way of knowing
Where this train is going

So many dangerous words
Dangerous thoughts
Evil beckons slyly

For a chance
To flower

Poison dripping
Into my soul

I would have to save this whole awful world
To make a dent in my perfect wrongness

Or just go away
Quickly and quietly
Before doing any more harm


Sublimating Sorrow

I may be getting a bit manic I said, giggling nervously and thinking of the next 50 things that I absolutely had to say in the next 7 minutes. What makes you think that? Well I did sleep a good 8 hours – over the last three days. And have been blogging like a demon, solving the meaning of life and planning to sell about a decade’s worth of art for small change.

Why do you think it’s happening?

That’s refreshing. The official script reads – “Have you been taking your pills?”
Look, far be it from to condone neurochemically irresponsible behaviour. I would love it if we all could chill. But the thing is some of us can’t – I can’t. Perhaps there is a chemical solution to the condition that is called David. But having just timidly exited a 37 year long experiment in sublimating sorrow with chemical potions I don’t think it’s possible.

I’m sorry to do this to you!
Do what?

Well it can’t be easy. Yesterday I’m all sunshine and rainbows and butterflies then today I’m down in the dumps. Did you say it’s ok. Or perhaps let’s discuss it. My brain has lost Terabytes of information since then. I can’t remember my dreams on your couch and I can’t remember you in my dreams.

It can be unsettling. You meet me and I’m happy and charming and energetic. Then next thing it’s tears, misery, sulleness, aggression.

Was that how it was for your girlfriends?
For some of them.
Is that how it is for you?

I’m not sure. I think alcohol and codeine made it less painful for me. Did fuckall for my significant others though. I’m getting a taste of my own medicine now – being stuck in an abusive relationship with myself – without the fuzzy distant feeling. That wonderful warm fuzzy distant feeling.

Perhaps it’s a form of sublimation? The mania that’s coming on. Sliding seductively closer – like a fucking out of control freight train.

I’m looking at the artificial orchid that I thought had magical powers for 3 months. Wanting to look at you. Your eyes have magical powers. Don’t they? Don’t tell me there’s no such thing as magic.

You’re fired
You’re joking
Perhaps I am

I can sublimate libido, turn my desire into silver words but how do I sublimate sorrow? Without drugs. Without sex. Without madness.
Time is up. Time is always up. Suicide is easy, god is dead and time is up.

Nothing matters unless I let it. Is this right? It seems right.

We’ll discuss it tomorrow ….


When Sipho met Molly

Regarding the heartwarming repost from Twitter below;


I was, quite unavoidably, led to a vivid recollection of the event I’m about to relate – which may or may not actually have happened.

“All we are saying …… Is Give Peace a Chance”

It was a few weeks ago, at the beginning of the silly season. I was gliding home from a date in my Ford Bantam when she drifted into the mother of all roadblocks.

Now having ingested more than my fair share of beer, wine and other happy making stuff I should have been a bit nervous. But for pretty much the same reasons I was not nervous at all. It was more of a feeling of ‘awwww cute – highway robbers – let’s have a lovely little chat with them’.

I wasn’t really thinking about the 27 empty beer cans behind my seats or the interesting bags of other stuff in my cubbyhole. Sipho shines his torch in my direction and jiggles it to the left where he wants me to park. The jiggling torch light is soooo pretty 🙂

Sipho: “Are you alright?”
Me (and Molly): “I’m fine.”
Have you been drinking?
I shared a bottle of wine with my girlfriend
Please get out of your car

It’s such a lovely night. I can smell the tar and the trees and the moon. It’s nice being here with Sipho.

We’ll have to test you
Half a bottle of wine will be too much
Mmmmmm ok
If you are over the limit we will have to arrest you
You will spend the weekend in the cells until the court case
I understand
What do you say?
That sounds quite bad.
What do you want to do?

(This is South African for bribes accepted here)

You can test me
But you will fail
If I call my superior it’s too late
Sorry I’m not really here – I said goodbye to my girlfriend tonight
I’m leaving town – going to Cape Town
In this Bakkie?
Yes – it’s a very good bakkie. But I’m sad. About leaving my girl.
Can’t you ask her to go with you?
I did
What did she say?
Sipho I want to go home – I’m sorry I’m not really here
Enjoy the evening

Bantam resumes gliding home. That was nice. I was sad but I’m happy now. The stars are so pretty. That was some lovely hippy trippy Jedi Knight stuff. Poor Sipho, I forgive him, I will send loving thoughts. Everyone should hang out more with Molly 🙂 🙂 🙂

An Unnatural Mind

Doctor I’m having a bad trip
I’m not really here
That’s ok neither am I – can we chat anyway?
Sure go right ahead

It’s hard to put into words. The words don’t say what I mean
Would you like to draw instead?
The pictures are just pixels – everything is just pixels
Pixels are ok

There are too many of me in here
Am I in there?
I suppose you must be. We all are aren’t we?
Yes – we’re just different arrangements of light and dark

You mean we are digital?
It’s not so simple
Can you make it simple
Not in any understandable way

People don’t understand anyway – they say it’s the drugs talking
Is it the drugs talking?
Drugs can’t talk
Well then it must be you talking

I keep having to go back – to remember where I am
We all do – it’s called the illusion of self
Can’t I stop, go forward instead?
You can when you die

I’m a victim of prejudice
Because you’re Jewish?
No because I’m me
Perhaps you could be someone else?

I’d like that – but I’d still have to keep going back
That’s ok we have time
Yes we do don’t we (I am hysterical laughter)
You are a victim of prejudice

Yes I prejudge myself
Do you prejudge me too?
I suppose I do
Can you stop

I’d like to stop but I’m afraid I’d dissolve
Back into the pixel soup?
Yes – back into the equation – or the ground of being from which the equation emerges
That line was too long
What do you mean?
You used to many words – it spoiled the higher dimensional pattern
Can you see the higher dimensional pattern?
Yes – I use the wheel on the mouse to scroll up and down
Are we in a word document?
Something like that.


I skimmed an article about using Oxytocin in couple’s therapy. I’m normally good at quoting and hyperlinking but I woke myself up screaming so I’m feeling a bit sloppy. A bit dispersed. I’m struggling to crawl out of my mind and into your head. So if it’s alright I’d just like to keep dribbling the words. I mean writing I think. It’s not what the Doctor ordered but he didn’t hear me scream.

So the idea, in the article, is that seeing as almost one in two marriages end in divorce, the pharmacologists are considering giving couples a bit of chemical help. A bit like fertility treatment but It’d be an illusion of love treatment. Which is fine because the illusion of love melts in the presence of more attractive mating opportunities anyway. And 1 out of 1 marriages ends in death  so we may as well do what we can to not fuck up the kids and the kids of the kids of the kids. Although the sun when it dies will eat the earth but that’s not easily monetized.

The whole universe will, true this, melt back into the nothingness from which it so precociously emerged. The ultimate law of diminishing returns. But people are very concerned about keeping the mind natural. As natural as fear and depression and rape and murder and bingo and angry cat memes. But chemicals are natural. Oh no they’re not you say – they’re man made. But man is natural. Oh crap I’m talking to myself again.

Mushrooms are natural. God can make a million magic mushrooms in the time it takes Pfizer to synthesize 10mg of Oxytocin. Pfizer could do it quicker if brains of people in love could be liquidized but they haven’t perfected the post liquidization distilling process and people in love often want to hang around and trip on the Oxytocin.

That’s the problem you see – the kick you get from your mate, the kick you call love, wears off. Darwin designed it that way when he invented natural selection. Also sometimes called survival of the most enthusiastic breeders. And, although women can only get knocked up by one man at a time. I think. Men can impregnate women almost as fast as god can make the mushrooms.

But god and Darwin ain’t dumb. So they let the oxytocin have efficacy for about 10.3 months otherwise the pregnant mother could get eaten by Wall Street or Ebola before she can deliver her spawn. I think the production of Oxytocin in women diminishes as a function of the man’s ability to produce expendable income but I may be wrong. Anyway to be on the safe-side Pfizer has done a deal with the Aluminum Company of America to combine Oxytocin with it’s waste fluoride so American kids can have good teeth and a mummy and daddy until they’re old enough to buy shrooms and become post nuclear family rocket scientists instead

NB: To be continued after the libel court-case