Talking to yourself

December 24, 2009 § Leave a comment

Should write.

In this memo to myself, I hit upon another way to be self-sufficient.

Living in Goa makes for more or less living in my head without responses to buttons pushed except on the inside. A perch, a way to eat, a number to spend and the recurring need to blow smoke seem to have occupied my life’s activities. Remember G saying with his usual cheek, Are you busy, or simply occupied? And, I know it better now than before.

What I have here is work I can just about manage, people who just about like me and a lifestyle I can just about maintain. The boundaries of my existence scrape at me from afar when I call those I can, think about what I do or even talk, though it isn’t encouraged much. Hence this. To be fair, these are boundaries imagined into being.

Seem to depend on people for a lot of late. As if the voice inside has coughed itself to sleep. As if my ears can’t catch their frequency anymore. As if I am slowly and carelessly seeping into any possible thing I can be, with nearly no will or discerning power to tell what I want from decision. This is the culmination of what I have snatches of conversations about. Accusations at the Sea for not caring enough (sickness indulgence, attention and meandering nag-hooks), mighty mood swings hinged upon a single word said by practically anybody and then the loss of stability at a very deep level (not that there has ever been much).

Not that anyone can ever care enough. AG on occasion spouts, Rubber dummy is what you should indulge your time with, won’t see a wrinkle in time. Now was there ever reason to want that kind of lurve? Or even this kind. Nearly no will or discerning power, I said. Nearly.

One thing though. The romance has been weaned out of me. To raise a brat who left home without saying goodbye. Properly at least.

It sure gets to you, this living by yourself jig. If I think about it.

Memo to self:  Awaken Yogi

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