Aporia

Even though I wore my silliest hat, today brought what in the corporate world we call “poisonous wrath” and the “deepest despair of the soul”; it is in such moments of extremity, seized by paroxysms of fury, laid low by the toxicity of stifled rage, melancholic and exhausted, that I know I am delivering value to the shareholders and being the best middle-manager I can be.

Nevertheless, it takes a toll, so when we left I thought it might be sound to take a few photos in the overgrown field next to our building. It was, and made me feel better, and then I came home and Five’s new explosive diarrheal habit had produced another kitchen-floor Pollock. After I titled, photographed, catalogued, and wrote an essay about it, I broke out the bleach to erase this most ephemeral form of art.

Then, my sister Nudawn sent me the oil painting below. I strongly dislike hugs, or human touch of any sort, or even basic human decency or warmth, outside of a relationship (a purely theoretical phenomenon at this point). When I was a child I amused my parents and teachers by drawing a two-headed beast called “The Hugging Monster” with the faces of mom and dad on it; it was chasing me. Nudawn has captured it beautifully.

This weekend I will be in New Orleans again, meeting Tumblr-users Mandalay (1st time), DHK (Umpteenth time), and Hell Belle (Nth time), probably in that order, and getting as drunk as possible on non-alcoholic beer. Don’t ever think dreams can’t come true.

(From Photophobia, here is this dumb grass even larger).