what a piece of linear art that word is. i meant to write it once and let that be the title of this note, but i was immediately compelled to type it again and again and again. something about the angle of the letter “y” at the end and the rounded “a” along with the “xi” in the center and the “t” leading back to the “y” again.
i’m reading too much into this.
i’m reading too much into everything.
ever since fortune, the grifting lizards from mars, death, my past, the future and my dreams brought me to the “the eighth-electro-plasma ocean of the ninth dimension” i’ve gotten caught up with a quality of anxiety bordering on narcotic.
it caused me to watch endless loops of news. i would hear the same story by different commentators. i would walk my dog late at night and see these same people walking on the street with me and they would be telling me the same news i heard earlier.
i would reach a state i’ll call, “sublime anxiety,” something that schopenhauer, had he a reason to be anxious, would have written extensively about.
it’s being alright with things just as they are and a wreck about everything all-at-once. it’s having every horrible control issue you ever had and the fluid peace letting go of them at the same time. it’s a terrifying tightness in the chest and the silent humm of “having passed through that light you’re not supposed to go into,” the defensive act your arm makes as your hand reaches for your chest, before the numbness and the pain register “big trouble” or “i’m comin’ to meet ya, elizabeth,” can make its way through your lips.
it’s worrying about your health plan and knowing you’re already peering at the grifting lizards watching intergalactic gameshows, their feet and tails resting on ottomans of a design that echoes something from 1952 as you glint and frizzle at the speed of light, there at the eighth-electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension where not only is anxiety sublime, but every atomic and sub-atomic ballet plays in theaters of dark and light at every moment, here and gone.
sublime anxiety is a means i use to hold these moments when there are fires burning behind my eyes while my arms reach across my room, that room where that hissing sound still wingggggggggggggggs away, where i want to believe the dead and the sleeping devise plans where my extant mindfreeze, my dreams for the future, my casino bets and lottery tickets lie in a morphine drip in portland.