Autodieography

– visiting dead uncles still attached by technology, distancing yet listening, detached from my mom’s oncology –

This unruly universe has a razor on which its decisions are made. Sometimes it chooses a sudden, delicate yet brash conception that wails into this world hungry, wet and magnificent, other times it’s a quick and brutal plucking of our family from our unwitting grips, leaving us humble, dizzy and vengeful.

We succeed. We own. We lose. We teach. We work. We enjoy. We die. 

There is no reasoning with a razor, only the awareness that such an edge exists. Like a horse not quite broken or a lover not yet trusted, its natural action is one that somehow always makes sense regardless of its seeming indifference. 

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Inhibit This

Aww, poor baby, the clouds cover the blue sky you know is back there, the rain is swooping in with a blanket of cold drizzle and wind, the window panes are drafty and the streets are wet and slick with leaves, and the depression hits with the heavy hand of dark autumn and all you can think about is holing up in the house and declaring war on the world. Waving the white flag, is more like it, wouldn’t you say?

I’m unsure what MAO inhibitors are or what an SSRI is (they sound strange and dangerous, like weapons or motorcycles), and I have never taken psychotropic or psychiatric drugs on any sort of rigid schedule. Schedule III, however, I may have smashed through my body once or twice on occasion on a purely experimental or recreational pursuit.

I am seriously considering lying on a couch and confessing how the rain makes me unable to perform simple tasks like trimming my nails or getting out of bed. Because something inside me often tells me not to move too quickly as to not wake the monsters in my soul that enjoy emerging just when my strength wanes. Deep seeded dirty spirits whose cagey and unrelenting chatter turns my confidence into mashed potatoes and douses my fiery desire to create and forge love into a withered, Charlie Brown Christmas tree of forgettable worthlessness. They haunt my dreams and make sleep a terrible venture each and every night.

So Doc…the weather’s got me down. How’s about some magic beans? Seriously. These mad mood swings are damning me to chocolate gorging meltdowns and no amount of alcohol in my cabinet will restrain this evil, enveloping animal for long.

Say Hello To Hydrocodone’s Little Friend

the early needle gets the voice
to somehow stop the stammer

warm salty itch
with soft television
never knowing which
sun has set or risen

the early needle poised and moist
delivers us from clamor

nausea
camphor and precision
moments tally years
round porcelain prisons

hand of doom whose noose is hoist
rises quiet like a hammer

mother comfort’s rapt decisions
only turns to damn her.

Sodium Benzoate, Yum

Linked to hyperactivity and asinine behavior in kids, this food preservative might be a clue to cut back on the ADD drugs and push some food other than hot pockets and soda pop.

Food additives. Factory jobs. Living near industrial plants. The three major causes to all the major ailments that drug companies and medical researchers like to say they’re trying to fix.

Sodium Benzoate is the tip of the rock of what could be making our children uncontrollable and our mothers and fathers undergo radiation, chemo and organ transplants.

Coke really is it.

I Was Raised On A Pharm

tied-face4

Whatever happened to radon? Still coming out of the dirt? What about flesh-eating disease, mad cow, bird flu, monkey pox, SARS, anthrax? OCD, ADD, PTSD, CANCER, fiber still good for me? What about bran? Is it Nutrasweet or Sweet & Low that gives me tumors? Saccharin? Oh. Whole wheat, fortified, free range, trans-fats, carbs, poly unsaturated, I can’t keep up. Product recalls, cell phone brain tumors, SPF 95, preservatives, is it hypo-allergenic because I’m lactose intolerant, no peanuts, no eggs, no bread, no red meat, no alcohol, well, maybe a glass of red wine a day.

Tell me why I’m sick and then tell me how to get better.

Oh. A couple of pills, huh? Sweet.