"I realized that I'd rather roll around in a pile of dead bugs than hang out with my friends anymore..." - awesome lj friend
My dog is very smart, but these "instinctual" programmes kick in. I was making this very loud buzzing noise with my lips and teeth, and he plainly saw me. Nevertheless, he was as if hypnotised, and certain that there was a large beetle running around about his feet. It was pretty amazing.
You find that the tingling in your arm now feels like there is no arm at all.
"When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous beetle."
What is there, what not is there? You are in your world, and you meet bacteria who want you in THEIR world. You split it down the middle, and end up not dead or alive, but chronically ill, with dreams that belong to no one. You are travelling a world-line, a universe, as a phantom, a shadow. The sting of a bee reminds you of a distant reality, and you are cured for a day. Or a decade. People walk through you as if on the way to the John, only occasionally knocking.
In high school days, I took a month-long trip around the country with friends. Near the end, we encountered a cute skanky girl, who followed me to the men's room at a gas station. It was one of those times I COULD have stupid sex, but didn't. Poor skanky girl, her world is now under water, cuz that was Minot, ND.
You look at yourself in the mirror and it's not your body. You will never be thin. Some pull out their hair or cut their skin. Boys should be girls and are alarmed to have penises. The damn Siamese Twin in my head commands most of my life, like the mutant head in, "Canticle for Liebowitz."
"I'm sorry, were you using this?"
And so you eat a roast and purge.
Throngs of people rush into my head and freeze instantly into stone boulders. Only when I recover can I revive them, turn them into THOUGHTS, and out they go, into my LJ.
What was Kafka thinking? Was he insane on drugs? Was he a diamond or fluke created by the great tectonic plates of history? Like Ayn Rand?
If you were to take a ride on a beam of light, and arrive across the universe, and find TIME all distorted - you are younger, or older, or other worldly - you would say, "That is really weird," but we live with a weird reality all our lives, in pain, in joy, in imagination, and mainly all we can think to do is lock up the people who don't fall in line.
But where did that TIME TRAVEL miracle spring from? It sprang, like the beetle of Gregor Samsa, from somebody's brain - Einstein's brain. A train. Travelling a beam of light. What was he thinking? At what point was this "relativity" a reality?
Waiting for ghosts. Seeing visions. Screaming because spiders are crawling all over you. what is there, and what isn't? What world-line is real? Who has the truth? What are the facts? Are you out of your mind?
Someone may lose a limb, in a war fought over non-existent threats, and still be convinced the limb remains. He feels pain. He feels movement. Of thin air, we tell him. "There's nothing really there." But there is. He feels the pain of existence there. As if sin, flushed from the bunkers, inhabits our bodies, assuming them corpses, like unsettled poltergeists.
This is phantom limb syndrome. It is not madness it is real.
But some people don't lose a limb - they just feel chronic pain in a present limb, for no scientific reason. It is as if they have a paining phantom limb, overlaid upon a real one they have forgotten. And the imagined pain is so real - the conviction of injury so decided - that the true limb degenerates, withering away, over time, and is destroyed. Some siblings, too, or civilisations, fade like pseudo phantom limbs, or like Siamese Twins who never see the light of day.
Isn't that just like life? Some people are lucky enough to think they are not schizophrenic - that they fare nobly and sanely through the bad to the good - that problems are caused by people, and trouble-making bugs, who are possessed by devils, and are therefore not in relationship with one's inner self, or reacting to the utterances from their lips or their souls.
But they are, schizophrenic - they are an amalgam of many different people all in the same head...
Competing for the truest world-line - pulling, tangling, losing, prevailing. Voices in the head, argue. Trees in distant forests make their voices known. Molecules from Einstein and ghosts of unknown Hellenic slaves combine in the liver, debating, voting, moving opinion this way or that. And what the liver wants is not necessarilly what the stomach wants. It's a constant states' secession movement - a civil war forever changing allegiances. And the brain tries to hold it all together, though there may be forces of galaxies behind every faction - and sometimes the best it can do is to filibuster.
They say there is no gold in Fort Knox.
"Yeah, well, don't believe everything you beer."
The solar system passes through some new phase in the galaxy, and we all are different people now. The weather changes. Species die, and new species emerge, identical to some now extinct for millennia.
Coincidence. What do we really know about it? And why has the sun gone off like an unruly dog, dragging us at the leash, tripping into some alternate reality, whilst bumping kneecaps? This reality stuff is just plain nuts.
What was the sun thinking?
Is it out of it's mind?
(Throw another apple at it - see what happens).