Tuesday, 17 June 2008

Notes on the Vivids

Just a general suffering
nothing special
nor of note
just an endless banal fizz
my mind is gushing down the pan
I furiously fill it
with anything to stave off... what?

Looking around the world, things in the world seem to take on equal significance whether near or far. Perspective is flattened. Tables, a cloud, people, distant trees, all equal. Everything has a halo, VanGoghVisionTM. It's rather wearing after a while. The brain gets tired assigning ranks of meaning, stacking significance, in an effort to be normal.

As with vision, also sound. The vivids intensify sound. There is an element of the flattening of distance but not so pronounced as with vision. And all the time it feels as if someone has lifted the top of my skull off, and swabs the top of my brain with a burning rag.

There is a sense that my brain is emptying, sloshing too fast down a drain, and there is an imperative to fill it up with information, doesn't matter what, so long as it makes the brain work. I'm afraid of letting it empty. I think that if I do, or if I get too tired to keep refilling it - if it drains away, then that will be that and I'll be down in the deep cold black. But the effort is sometimes enormous. Every morning I wake and hope it'll be a calm day, normal, not this banal intensity. I need the intensity - I'd die without it. But sometimes I need a break.

Dealing with people is strange. I can manage the small stuff, but give me a hint of conflict and I go nuts. Tears if I am lucky, rage, shouting, contempt, banging my head or fist on the wall if I'm unlucky. I've always played chicken with people driving too fast when I'm walking down the lanes. It's funny, especially when they realise I actually do not care if they hit me with their mindless oversized cars.

Writing helps, certainly. Distracts me from my distraction. When will they invent the pill that you just take when it all gets too fierce? Why must it be all or nothing?

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