Sometimes, I think life is a test. That there is a certain number of things or a certain awareness to achieve before I die. That is my raison d'etre. My reason for being is lately becomming a bit cloudy.
See I sometimes believe that the challenges that come my way, do so to enlighten me, make me wiser, teach me that important thing I am resisting. I have thought this for a long time. I remember in a previous spirtual existence, crying with exasperation, ( is that how you say it?), and saying 'fuck sake, whatever you are trying to tell me, just fucking tell me and stop being so fucking obtuse, opaque, secretive, and deceptive, just write it out in letters so I can I see it and I will do it.".... Of course life, the Universe, God or the gods, He or She or They or it or whatever, doesn't really do in your face. Sure a Volcano is pretty in your face all right but the great WHY?, can be a mystery that many generations go to their grave with it etched on their last breath.
Soooo I have some challenges lately. My body has decided to revolt, if any one comes to read here they will have seen that. The swimming and running and cycling stopped.
I was supposed to swim today but I was so hung over from the medication I couldn't get my ass in gear.
My lover is ill. She is bed ridden for the next 10 days. I had a shitty day at work. I am full of pain. I get home to find the cellar was broken into over the weekend and they stole my bike and tent.
One of my neigbours went to the Arab quarter to make a complaint in the police station there. I will go local tomorrow morning. I will meet a rude police officer who will have no patience with my stilting french. I will make an inadequate report. I will be late for work. My body will complain with the stress. My mind says, "Hey this IronMan idea, you are fucking mad, I am not letting you do it. If you don't listen to me telling you through your pain, then I am going to send out a thought wave when you are asleep and make someone steal your bike". I say fuck it. I am doing this Iron Man. If I catch the fucker who took my bike I will shove it up his or arse side ways.
Our Gardien is a cyclist. He went on holidays just before the break in. My neigbour had his bike stolen too. I think that is a wierd coincidence.
I don't ever see Arabs in this area, what would they be doing here in the morning so trying to break in? I just think Life is trying to tell me something right now and I wish it would right out for me so I could get it. I am not great at clue solving when I am tired.
Imaginary Authors: Violet Disguise, Every Storm a Serenade, Saint Julep - Evocative biographical notes, labels of collaged imagery, Imaginary Authors builds stories fulfilled in perfume. They are casual yet glamorous, and each o...
3 weeks ago