Electra’s dictionary/the following scene; (past the noir) confessions, deflections

 

~“Give your evidence,” said the King; “and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have you executed on the spot.”

This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.”—from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll~

it is later, after the video zoom chat with Paulina—which I suppose I would rather not go into for more than one or two reasons, like so many things that I find it hard to speak of, write of

like so many things on my mind and too hard to let myself even to feel —even as I know they are there; the haunting seems more endurable than having to survive the agony of the aftermath once aired and the consequences of climbing back out of the clinging bog that has often threatened to topple any resolve to —go on

it is easier to —instead, I guess —to speak of other things —as I do.... instead; easier to deflect. And to shift and veil behind; to obscure because.... I guess, I find it terribly hard to say some things even to myself, nor even let myself ....look at full-on.... and best to mind —not— to let it show

sometimes I flee

as if the devil is chasing me....

and so.... it is when I go straight after the meeting to draw a bath — I suspect Jörn sensed it because he saw me leave as soon as it was done — 

and in my wild haste I forget to shut the door behind me.... realizing I must need a bath and —kicking off my shoes with an urgency and removing my jeans, to drop, discarded onto the bathroom floor.... but stop and in some strange daze now, I just stare at nothing —still leaving on his shirt and tie that just an hour or so before he put on me in front of his closet and so I stare without seeing what I look at as I just blankly watch the water fill, leaning into the frame of the bathroom doorway and .... it must be because I am sleep deprived that my thoughts go faraway and don’t notice when Jörn appears and walks over to me. He touches me and makes me jump with a start. And when I turn, I forget to expect him to be still dressed that way; as Greta; he wears a cerulean mini dress that reaches mid thigh with fishnet stockings and go-go boots from the shipment and it is hard not to stare at him with his face made up expertly like a drag queen; his hair softly loose and ....caught in an unguarded second I reach to touch it.... touch his hair ....caught up in something there and.... without realizing I stare into his eyes —drawn to him....

awkwardly I move away. I go to the bath tub and look for the patchouli oil and pour some in and lean down to watch the water fill

He says,

“come here....” in that way and when I don’t move and just look into the water, this time more softly I hear him say,”kim hit....”

I guess maybe it is something; just something different this time in his voice that makes me stand up and without looking at him, I just go to him

But he says,

“look at me,” and pulls my face up to him. He asks me ....something .... noticing my reticence but I don’t answer and so, instead, he asks me something else that I don’t expect .... 

and then—he blurts it all out at once as if he’s been holding it back—he just says it all at once, 

“was it because you wanted to protect your mother from him ....because you thought if he beat you .... he wouldn’t beat her ....and—was it also because she disappointed you by what.... she —did— duva, it wasn’t just your sister who did that— was it? ....she did it ....too — but she is who confused you and you knew it was wrong and you couldn’t tell anyone.... because you were trying to protect her —duva, is that why.... ? you needed somewhere to tell.... but she found your diary —that is why you first created the dictionary.... isn’t it—Electra.... Oedipus?”

I feel sick 

his questions stun me and I get dizzy 

Sometimes it seems that —that closet overflows

the doors nearly bursting apart —as now with the weight of all the skeletons, it falls and bursts wide open and every inch of my skin seems to be scorched and on fire, in shame .... so long inside it feels too much to stand up, so long —holding it in to keep it from showing

and I know .... he knows that because he says this to me now as ‘Greta’ ....that this way ....he ....can 

and maybe that is why 

I search myself and ask myself: did I suspect he knew? did I not know....? no.... I really did not— I mean, I hoped he did not —and hoped he would not ever 

wished he would not ever

have to .... know

I can’t look at him, and the walls seem to warp and cave, their soot running off and all over my skin

....I did not expect such questions. Nor that he had, by now.... guessed ....as much as he has. and so ....it makes me wonder how long he has known. how much he knows. and why.... he still .... is there.... 

Why .... he is still there ....why is he.... ? why has he not .... gone

now knowing what he knows; what no one else has ever known....And maybe it is the relief of letting go of the burden.... I begin to shake 

and it is somehow no longer a shock to look at him ....now.... this way, 

even as he does not make a pretty woman but this does not lessen the impact he has to disturb me and instead I find I am, in that moment, quite suddenly more aware that there is something ....I feel.... 

”kim hit....”he says again, pulling me towards the bath, he shuts off the water, “you’re shaking, duva—let’s get into the water,” he says,”låt mig tvätta dig.” 

He turns off the lights and lights two candles and in the dimness, he undresses me, undoing the knot of his tie that I wear, when he undoes the buttons of his shirt on me, starting from the bottom, he pulls my face up to look at him, “look at me,” he says.... and when I do, he watches my eyes and face and then he touches me under the shirt —he says something ....but I don’t know the words or what they mean, but it is something I hear in the meaning in his voice that forces out the breath I have been holding and blurs my eyes and then it is the surprise of his touch that over rules everything ....even the dueling, chastising censorship of those demons within my walls, those cruel demons with their thorny fingers that never give me a moment’s peace, but for now, they seem to have lost their power, I don’t hear them ....just Jörn as he says those unknown words again and take a breath and breathe .... breathe in his familiar smell mixed with the scent he wears, I lean into him and looking up at him ....feel the need to place my hand intimately on him.... touch him —and the feeling rushes over, I climb onto him and press myself to him.... by the sink, on the edge of the counter

burlesque; the importance of being Elton

“Are you sure Lisa’s there?” I ask Jörn 

“I heard her talking in the background— he had his phone on speaker....” 

“Oh. Hmmm.... What about the secret distillery basement?”

“No, she knows about it, she was talking about it the first day when she was here, you just don’t remember,” he says

“Oh. Right. I forgot....” but then I say, “what about the extra guest room down the hall that’s become the dumping zone?”

“She knows every room in the house, duva, remember she ordered all the furniture and planned and designed the color schemes and I’m sure she has all the specs still on her computer to refresh her memory.”

“Well, actually I was thinking about the closet.”

“The closet?”

“Well, the reason nobody likes that room is because it’s so ordinary looking and boring, which is the reason it’s become the dumping zone where all the junk gets tossed into, but —more to the point: the closet is possibly the worst feature. It reminds me of the closets of half a dozen dreary apartments I’ve lived at in Michigan.”

“It looks like what closets look like,” he banters not getting my point

“Yeah, it does so —yeah—it could be anywhere, anyone’s, right?”

“You suggest we do a zoom meeting in a closet?” he scoffs 

“Do you have a better idea?”

“A closet? Duva—“

“Yes— look, I can say that it’s a promotional idea. Something we’ve come up with and are trying it out. Since Paulina wants to continue to be involved in the company—as you know—he wants to remain in charge of the website because that’s what he did before it changed hands to —you— I mean ‘Greta’— he seems unwilling to let Cabaret go, if you want my opinion— he’s going to be like a pimple on your ass, you know—and he’s extremely territorial, especially about making the decisions about what goes in the catalogue!”

“Why do you care? It doesn’t matter to me. I just need the front for storage space. Just let him, if he wants to do the work—“

“No, Jörn—you said— I mean— well you said because I used to run a boutique— well I just assumed you wanted my input.... and.... so.... you should know — um— that I placed this really big order and—well— Paulina was not exactly pleased that she—he—I mean— wasn’t consulted first.”

“You placed a big order?”

“It was when I was waiting last night, I got bored and.... so, anyway....”

“Hmm,” Jörn only says 

“Are you mad? Was that wrong?”

“No—I ....what kind of order?” he asks 

“It’s just —some idea I got for a new line that I told Paulina I wanted to call ‘Le chevalier’....“

“Hmm...” he says again and at first it is all he says. After a silent pause he asks,

“what kinds of clothes did you order?”

“Oh, well—you know.... shirts with a lot of ruffles.... like Oscar Wilde dandy clothes, you know, like those ‘poet shirts,’—some waist coats with velvet britches, long brocaded coats—like—kind of Louis XIV style but with a modern look.... I found this on a search I was doing because I was losing my mind watching the monitors for hours with nothing happening. These were cool, I thought, so, why not?— they’re all by an unknown designer— I mean, as I noticed the Cabaret catalogue only had femme fatale things mostly there’s a whole other genre that is being overlooked and I thought— well—and I was thinking ‘Elton’ wouldn’t be dressed in tights and stilettos, would he?”

He laughs,

“now I know why Paulina wants to see what you look like!”

As we are now sitting up in bed I watch his face carefully and becoming worried, I say,

“why—wh-what does—that mean exactly?”

“Never mind—let’s focus on the zoom meeting, we don’t have much time—we need to—well, besides having to throw our act together, I don’t know what we can do about you—and as you point out, the shipment that came will have more than enough for Greta —but we still have no idea where to do the zoom meeting....hmm, really ....le chevalier....?”

I try not to read too much into it,

“So, what about the closet?”

“What about the closet?”

“For the meeting.”

“You are seriously suggesting we do a zoom meeting in a closet?” he is not impressed

“Well, just listen a minute— we can throw some Christmas lights around it—I noticed that there were boxes of feather boas in the shipment that came, we hang some of them around with that fake leopard jacket I saw, hang one of those little black dresses with rhinestones that I saw was in there too and—set up some high heeled shoes on the shelf—you know, I think we had a lot of extra red Christmas lights, didn’t we? we could use those—I mean, it’s a small space but we can dress it up like a Cabaret and say we are working on a promotional campaign called ‘Party in My Closet’ for the obvious euphemism of the closet, but —it now it just occurred to me we can say it’s our way to do our part to ‘chase the Covid blues away’ since everyone is pretty much depressed and stuck in forms of isolation. Tell him we think it would be good to promote sales, say we were thinking to do a ‘party in my closet’ contest for customers and we thought it might work to boost morale —uhhh.... whatever— what the fuck,” I say because he’s laughing at me, “ok. Never mind, forget it. I know it’s stupid—sorry, it was just the first thing that popped into my head .... so.... maybe you have a better idea where to do a zoom call where Lisa doesn’t know.”

“Is this the window designer coming out in you?”

“Hey, I was good.”

He gets up suddenly and yanks me out of bed dragging me to his closet,

“Good or bad, I can’t think of anything better—and we’re out of time. We’re doing it.”

The following scene, Victor/Eltonia noir; Spy notes, Electra’s dictionary (jm muse chronicles)

 

“When did you get back?” I ask him after

“A few hours ago....” he says this against my ear, from behind, pressed up to me, “I saw you up here. You were sound asleep. And it seemed like a good idea.... as we’ve been up all night.... you didn’t even feel me get into bed next to you,” he says and draws me to him, his arms like a seatbelt buckled in front of me; he kisses my neck, “I think you were dreaming.... or maybe I was because— I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep.... was it the hut again—your dream?”

“And the—“

“Moon....” he says it with me as I say it too

“The moon....” I sigh seeing it the way it was in the dream as it shone into the hut; full, beautiful .... and the sound of the sea.... and then I heard—

“I heard music,” I say now, “yours....”

“That was my fault, I’m sorry, I had it on.... I’ve been going back over some of the parts and had it on when .... I was laying here next to you. Before I fell asleep....”

“What time is it?”

“It’s a little after twelve.... we should probably get up,” he says reluctantly

And because I hear it in his voice I ask,

“why? What’s up now—Jörn....?”

After a beat he sighs,

“he wants to do a zoom meeting.”

“A zoom meeting? Who does? Who do you mean?”

“Paulina.”

“Oh.... ? ....he —is— a ‘he’—“ I say, “glad you clarified.”

“You couldn’t tell on the phone?”

“By a phone call? Jörn—nobody jumps to conclusions these days, yes? We don’t jump, right? —but, you know, I’m not even sure how you have  managed to—rope me in—to your shenanigans, now— how did this even happen? I am trying to imagine your motives and —I mean how did you ....?—do this?—and I let you, because I’m —a twit— obviously —this is crazy! What is it you expect me to do?”

But instead he does something ....he knows I like —which is an unfair trick. 

He ignores my questions and instead just asks,

“actually, you need to tell me, I’m fascinated —how did you manage to convince Paulina? I think he almost has a crush on you now and he only likes boys,” but I notice he does not laugh, rather sounds somewhat astounded 

“What?!” I laugh at that, “did I? With just my voice!???”

“Yes, because now he wants to see what you look like,” now he actually laughs, and, he seems even wickedly amused

“Please—you’re not serious....”

But he keeps doing something he knows I like so I think maybe this is a spy tactic he’s picked up 

“I’m not that easy to convince,” I say

“You don’t lie very well. No, tell me, how did you disguise your voice? I’m really curious.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Well, first when I called I got the voice mail and hung up. I sent an email. Then he called me back. But —not at first. About twenty minutes later, I guess it was. I didn’t expect that. Because— see, I realized I was hungry. Because actually, I didn’t eat since some time yesterday —on my hike. When all I had was a granola bar. So I decided to make something— I was half asleep but starving and so I was just going to make a baked potato and I didn’t realize the shaker to the cayenne pepper was on the wrong opening and I inhaled a cloud of pepper dust when he called— so I was actually choking and totally hoarse.... he really thought I was a guy?”

now he’s really laughing at me,

“I guess you better start inhaling more pepper because .... well—“here he pauses, “besides that—we need to make you look like someone called Elton.”

“You need to do some explaining, Jörn. And why —exactly— do you think I’ll do this? Sometimes you are too demanding, I swear Jörn—“ but I stop protesting.... because he can be convincing, actually 

But I hold some resolve still, and I say,

“I do want to know why.... why now? Why suddenly do you decide—to now make me a part of your spy schemes?”

“Why do you think?” he says this into my ear between kissing my neck 

“No—I don’t know.... really I don’t....”

“Maybe because of what I wrote on the note ..... it is time to.”

“That is so cryptic, Jörn. You make it sound like you are explaining but—you never actually say anything! Would it be too hard for you to—for once— to actually say? Something? Actually tell me something? Something! Maybe once, just once. Dropped your guard, maybe?”

“And that is why. I knew you’d get there eventually.”

I am silenced by this enigmatic remark. 

“More of your riddles! I swear—!” 

Only, no. I don’t finish that remark. 

Because I cannot. 

and even so, my mind is trying to work out what he means even while in the midst he presses his advantage with his methods of distraction. And then ....it is some time before the conversation gets anywhere; he teases and says,

“I feel I owe you for your birthday,” as if for excuse 

***

And not too long after ....

he concedes now to admit,

“All right, I will explain: Paulina’s ex is Lisa’s best friend.... Bruno—“

“Bruno?”

“Yes— he was partner in the business with Paulina —the Cabaret —all of this— which I only discovered after.... I bought the business .... that is—Greta.... bought the business—“

“Shocking—maybe you should have hired a detective to get the lowdown first,” I say with irony. 

Which he ignores, not even pausing,

“—and— she cannot know; it would blow my cover and —cause a lot of misunderstandings..... this presents the problem of the zoom call as— besides that you can’t look like you, also, because you know she knows this house and I know she’s been consoling Paulina on the break up —she’s currently at his place....”

“This is insane! How is it possible of all drag clothing companies you buy the one who is somehow connected with your wife?”

“Lisa is a home designer, Bruno went to her design school— and it’s Stockholm.”

“What does that mean?”

“So—“ but just ignores this question, “now we have to come up with something fast to disguise not just us but also this place. This house. That she got for us. Any ideas?”

Electra’s dictionary (a short); excerpt of a scene/Noir dream

 

I fall asleep after the phone call, too tired to stay awake to wait

and dream....of shadows 

I see and watch those shadows; the shadows on the wall

it seems .... I watch them; watch as they move across the wall with their own life.... it seems.... I watch the shadows 

and see him move as though he becomes his music..... with his hair wild, flung wildly about.... I watch.... watch him

how much I love to watch him, even in dream, and the way the music seems to become tactile and lucid; like something physical erupting 

the wildness in him—that wildness ....he keeps just below the surface and only sometimes he allows to be released

but the dreams mix and seem to be confused with what is real, like the stack of hides with the scent of him.... I feel the texture of his hair against my lips, the warmth of his arms; he fills me, pervading everything and all senses 

until I realize it is not a dream....

sometimes in sleep we join

Next scene/Noir night into day

 

It seems several hours must have gone by, left still not knowing what has happened 

....as when I do try his number, after ten minutes, it goes directly to voice mail, leaving me frozen to sit still and just wait, staring dumbly at the last monitor I saw him in

....but it must have been much less time than that when he finally does call —as time is strange that way, 

it had to be within an hour of manic anxiety

“Sorry, my phone battery died,” he says to me when he calls; it is by then some time around seven I realize 

“Were you watching the monitors?” he asks, “did you see if anyone was following?”

And by then I am too exhausted from the stress of the night with no sleep and too relieved .... I guess.... to get excited or exclaim; much too unable to have any energy left to be wound up or even be angry at his apparent glibness; just glad to hear his voice and so just say,

“Oh— the boat or—?”

“Yes, the boat, the cargo ship,” he says

“No, nobody was following in the water but the monitors went blank for awhile —I think I bumped the button on the circuit strip,” I say

“That wouldn’t affect the recording, I can look at it later but you would have seen a boat if it was just a minute or so. In any case, they couldn’t trace it to me,” he sounds tired too, I can hear it in his voice

“Jörn, do you always do that?—I mean, have you? Is this like a regular thing?” I ask

“That was the last one,” he says this now with a heavy sigh of relief, “I needed to transfer the gold to another location. I won’t have to do it again—I am not going to store it back there anymore....”

And as if any of this makes sense to me

“You know.... I saw you hanging from the helicopter,” I say 

But he just says,

“Mmm....” in a tired noncommittal way 

“Jörn?” 

“Ja—yes, duva....” as he seems half asleep, “I’m glad that was the last one— I’m on my way back, I should be back there soon after your shipment arrives —and don’t forget to call that number but use the business line —and make sure you don’t use your real name,” he says this also very noncommittal, as if half asleep

“Right, Elton....Are you driving?—I don’t hear a motorcycle?”

“No, I’m on a train. And I grabbed another disguise, but I’m going to have a quick nap now —oh! and duva, try to disguise your voice when you call the number —ask for Paulina—can you, maybe, deepen it?”

“Deepen it? Why?”

“To sound more like an Elton,” he says tiredly

“Then I am supposed to be a guy? You never said.”

“Nobody is going to check body parts,” he says

***

And after.... slouched in a chair, I look again at the necklace and locket .... as there has been no time to really, so— I look at it now .... it is somehow delicate and pretty, I find as I study it, and admire the work of it, finding myself amazed at discovering yet more mystery about Jörn, even now after going on two years, I think —and note, too, as I study his craftsmanship, the way it has that strange gray-blue glow, almost like his eyes; those eyes of kryptonite ....and I flick the little key that dangles as I think this, considering ....the work of JM smeden .... and like his music, I consider, his exacting attention to detail is .... just like everything he does, isn’t it? ....and only then decide to put it on, even as there is no mirror down here to look at myself with it on 

But then I hear the buzzer —a seeming foreign sound of alarm that shocks me out of a daze and alerts me to realize: oh, this must be the shipment. The guy must be having trouble with the pin code, I realize. And get up from the desk and walk out of the cage to the conveyor belt that, hours before, I saw him leave on 

but there is a queer and dazed sense, again, like I have done this kind of thing before ....for him.... and it seems the sleepiness I feel seems to open parts of my mind as I start to realize something else.... it is this about him, this— and why it is that it seems I so blindly .... just go.... as if I would follow him anywhere, because ..... I sense I already have.... so many times before.... as if from so many life times .... ago ....and maybe it is that which does not make it seem at all strange .... and why I do it

he said ‘trust’ didn’t he? And so, is it this? what must be why .... it is.... about him, this —trust.... ? Is it that ? I had for him .... as if from somewhere inside .... like from some other time somewhere long ago, it feels  —like some kind of strange and blind trust for him 

since .... that very first day when I first saw him in the lobby .... that day..... when I was first caught in his gaze

what was it he meant in his riddle about trust? What did he mean....? Only my thoughts have become foggy and so dazed as I climb onto the conveyor belt and watch the electric doors open as I move on the belt as it goes and then find as it descends, I am now outside moving down a hill through trees in a pale morning light 

Noir night; Left hanging

 

One of the last things Jörn quickly mentions, as an afterthought, on his way out, is that there is a delivery coming in the morning and that I should watch the monitors for when the semi arrives downstairs. 

But this does not fully register with me. 

And only later, do I remember that he said this. Hours later, while I am still in the dungeon basement, sitting in the cage by the computers, staring at the mostly pitch dark monitors and playing with the remote control buttons watching the monitors, not exactly knowing why. 

Only that it was my job to let Jörn know when I saw a train pass on one of the monitors at around 1:30AM.... which I did —after staring at what looked like a blank screen for an hour after he left 

and then after the train passed.... it was even more hours followed of having to mind numbing-ly stare at all the blank screens— not knowing why....

and not even thinking to question anything.... 

and why?

Maybe it’s just a lot to process.... and find I welcome this opportunity of distraction to not have to resort to fill the time with the wasteland of social media as I want to avoid any and all access to news with their highlights of misery, catastrophes, violence and politics

while considering that this spot right here could work nicely as a bomb shelter, I find myself thinking as I look around

.... and maybe I am slightly shell shocked about it all.... the pantry wall, the rubber jumpsuit, the platinum locket and confusing note....  overthinking the meaning of the riddle— what does it mean? .... I am in a fuzzy, bleary state

From the monitors I was able to watch him leave. He did not go back through the stairwell from before; instead he chose to go down on the conveyor belt, saying I should  go that way too if I needed to in case the delivery person has trouble with the keypad code downstairs in the morning 

and I did assure him I would personally like to avoid bats right now. Again, it hardly registered with me.... as even odd .... my mind still trying to understand his words

I mean— it is not as if I should think there was anything strange about watching him climb on a conveyor belt — right? too busy trying to read meanings in his words .... as I watch dully from the monitors and in a daze I see him put on a helmet (no wonder his hair was matted) and ride off on a motorcycle .... a motorcycle? Where did that come from....? it vaguely occurs to me to wonder. I think, hmmm.... no wonder he didn’t need the car.... oh, maybe the rubber jumpsuit makes perfect sense now, I guess....

however it still remains unclear to me where the stairs lead to

and the conveyor belt.... as the monitor I watched him leave from on the motorcycle was hard to clearly see much in the dark

****

But at around three-thirty AM I discover I accidentally have fallen asleep when something crashes and shocks me awake. I must have leaned on a glass as it rolled off and broke in a very, very loud pop sound, like an explosion, which caused me to jump —and now there is glass everywhere, which is not the best situation half asleep 

caught in a maze of broken glass and no idea where there may be any kind of dust bin or broom or.... anything, I reach for a box and start collecting the pieces but 

something on the monitor catches my eye and I see Jörn dangling from a helicopter —dangling! which is the moment I cut myself —but I only realize it in a split sense— because it is incomprehensible why I see blood everywhere or that I’m dripping—because I am watching Jörn on the screen as he hangs from a helicopter .... but glance quick to another screen as something there moves and catches my eye as I see a cargo ship?! —heading towards the bridge .... where I watch the train head over the railroad tracks — the same railroad tracks that I had previously stared at for hours before ..... which has been where the camera has been focused all night .... and now there’s a train ....and why am I’m covered in blood? as I stand there frozen

What is he doing?

At this point I try using the close up button not even realizing I’m smearing blood everywhere. But it’s too dark to understand what is happening! And things are happening everywhere in all the monitors! — that I don’t know which one I should be looking at

It seems like hours as I watch what he is doing.... but realistically it must have all happened in about twenty minutes.... maybe twenty-five.... 

there’s something that drops from the cargo train onto the tracks.... then it seems he ties it or—somehow attaches it to the rope from the helicopter .... and then....

what happens? 

The cameras go blank for awhile! 

What just happened?

I must have hit a button..... it takes awhile before everything comes back.....

But all I see is the cargo ship disappearing and nothing!

Nothing .... there’s nothing at all.... all the screens go back to how they were before .... just pitch, dark camera views that are only vaguely discernible as the railroad tracks, the water and blank spaces.... meanwhile I am searching the water wondering .... fearing.... the worst thoughts

I sit there waiting wondering if I should try calling Jörn’s phone but afraid to. If he is unable to answer because he’s hanging from a rope I wouldn’t want to make him try and answer the phone

So I wait staring at the screen wondering what the fuck I just witnessed .... and start pacing inside the cage .... 

give it five minutes and call? Or.... 

Thoughts within

 

The hardest part of present day life for me has been more about the prison of the perimeters 

and the loudness of the very negative society of the twenty-first century

one cannot escape it

I really don’t mind solitude; if I am to be honest, I prefer it

I do miss getting to travel

I need change or I go crazy 

which —may be .... I have gone, 

as I talk to myself here quite a lot. There is such a strangeness .... out there. I don’t know if it is the removal of physical interaction with members of society .... but people seem particularly “extreme” and brought to their lowest denomination 

What does a healthy minded person do to escape the perils of hostility and narrow minded crowd thinking 

as big as the world relatively is to me, it has begun to feel too small

I don’t want to be negative and I guess I come here to clear these thoughts of where I am being blind .... 

I don’t regret things I have walked away from but I do regret the disappointment ....

if philosophy is for those who can afford the time to, I do it when others sleep 

I guess because I fear my dreams