writing about my life

Nkosi ate some cheese

with 2 comments

There is a poetic sense that seems to depend on slightly blurring the hard edges present in the meaning of words, or even in the identity of people and beings.

I have experienced whispers of this sense and judged it to be a kind of magical thinking that is bad for reason and sanity. I now wonder whether I was wrong to do this and should in fact cultivate it.

“Nkosi”. This is my seagull’s name. I made it up to mimic the sound of certain words in African languages. It has to be spoken with a plosive K.

I understand a lot more about the world than I used to. I understand hierarchy better now too although primarily it is an illusion in the face of the real principle of universal equality which I do espouse.

I get an obsessional intrusive thought embodying some disgusting image or act, but it is slightly distorted into something more like a sense of saying “I want to *” to someone in a conversation, where the * represents some grotesque thing that would arouse disgust. I get it with posh people who would insist on good manners more. I imagine conversations. This is OCD really but I find I don’t feel compelled to a ritual behaviour to clear the thought. A friend once said I had “masked OCD” and strangely it is in telepathic conversations with him that I get the effect the most. I sometimes am driven to drink through it. In my reading about OCD it says that an intrusive thought usually stems around a sexually inappropriate idea, an idea of dirt or contamination, or sometimes a religious blasphemy or a violent thought. The sufferer is troubled by the thought then has to do a ritual or repetitive behaviour, which is the compulsion part.

Maybe I should actually try to do some ritual behaviour and see if this helps.

I just suffered a very severe twitching muscle in my arm.

twitch twitch twitch its all you do
and you even start to twitch when you’re on the loo

I must put that Iron salt in the sea soon.

I just had another intrusive thought, just then, which seems to have come about through a see-saw effect when i tried to correct the twitching with my will. After that I was thinking about my attempt to dig through the Panama Papers to find occurrences of family names of people I know. I then worried that I would look nervous and guitly when I next saw any of them and they would guess, as if through the application of some superior mental acuity. To be fair they are only human, albeit some very sharp.

Now I have guts.

I just read an editorial by Bill Gates about how the world is becoming a better place and that it is negative news which misinforms people about that. I agree except on one score: green issues are not being addressed enough and environmental destruction is still getting worse.

I am thinking about the different personalities of people from different backgrounds. Some people have very little curiosity because they were not allowed to develop it when they were growing up. I have a friend who has no enthusiasm because he was not allowed to develop it. But you, Steve, have both of these in spades. Ian has curiosity and enthusiasm too. Pete was not interested in stuff that he wasn’t interested in, but had great thirst for knowledge with stuff about human life and society etc.

I was lucky because when we grew up with David we had money, and when I was sent to school I was encouraged and nurtured (if not emotionally) at Milner Court. Like a reptilian I developed intellectually but less so emotionally. Aunt Jane was also a strong influence on me. Ricky used to give me beer.

I was also thinking about Dan’s ex wife Lee. I am not a predator I said to her, she just stared at me. The worst stare ever was Nat, Carolyn’s sister, and her kids too. “That’s just what she does” you said, Steve! haha.

I must forgive Ian and not blame him for his faults. nobody is perfect. It poisons our friendship when i become wrathful. He is fun, funny, kind and generally OK.

I have been in a struggle to the death with the booze. I perpetually worry about my health, especially liver function. I am getting twinges of pain coming from my kidneys. I smoke and my chest is bad. I have irregular heartbeat. My teeth are rotten. I have sleep apnoea. I have a lowered pain threshold from the codeine addiction. Sheez!

I said to a friend the other day, worry goes along with the alcoholism. I wonder if it is because the conscious mind is depressed during the drunkenness so the worries disappear, then when you are sober it has to catch up on reality to keep survival awareness going. In order for this to happen the worries intensify more than they would otherwise to compensate. After all worry seems to have an evolutionary purpose insofar as it presents you with thoughts involving danger and risk in order to make sure you remain aware of these things.

A fool’s paradise indeed. With opiates you are self-molesting by altering pain receptors. Alcoholism is self molestation of the anxiety system…

Hunter S Thompson!!

I have beaten the scrot-rot but now it is creeping back due to not bathing.

I get headaches and I’m not sure if its the teeth, or what. I worry about low socio-economic status often. I am very paranoid of kids and teens. I hear people saying negative things, a lot of which is hallucination. My worst problems occur in supermarkets.

This is a moaning session, but I am capable of being positive at times. It may even be that this moan will get it all off my chest and I will cheer up.

Now for the positive bit:-

I am a good kind person and I have lots of friends who love me. I help others and work creatively. I am a good analytical thinker and a master of the English language. I have mathematical and scientific skills and knowledge. I am an interesting conversationalist. All is good.

But I have a drink problem, and even now I am starting to make excuses to crack a bottle later on. Weasels.

I slept to spaceship engine noise.
I dreamed strange greyed out scenes, lo-fi.
my first thoughts on waking were of terror
I retch and cough in my kitchen
tears gently emerge from my eyes
A child within me speaks
My writing is simpler than it was

Just ate beans on toast for my breakfast. Wondering if more complicated thoughts will emerge onto the (virtual) paper here. Complexity for its own sake is pointless. Simplicity is more powerful.

I read “Silently and Very Fast” by Kathrynne Valente, then dad downloaded it onto his Kindle. I am worried he will become wrathful, as if advanced SF is somehow an insult to him.

I just write whatever is on my mind. It comes out much more matter of fact and simple than it used to. These are not lofty reflections anymore.

Mum contradicted me again yesterday. Form and content. The content was about air purifiers, the form was a kind of dismissive put-down of my idea. Duncan said “She puts you down all the time”. he was right.

The Valente book is prophetic and poetic.

Just fed Nkosi some cheese.

I was explaining to Mike how anger distresses me when others display it. I thought my problem with it was worsened by the sz but Mike said “everyone’s like that”.

Upon waking my first thought is usually worry about the drink.

Valente is so cool.

No way in hell a non-sf fan would

understand it.

Doris and Ian “go-between stress” yesterday, Mum and Geoff didn’t take it seriously and offered no real sympathy. Geoff appears to listen but he doesn’t really give a reaction of empathy when he communicates, just dry analysis of the facts. A legal mind.

I seem to resist holding complexity in my mind. I am more capable of just “being” these days.


Written by Luke Dunn

February 26, 2018 at 8:56 am

Posted in Prose

2 Responses

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  1. Nice threads of thoughts. I must try this myself. Journalists just lie for a living much like politicians. What if we were to write out the truth, dismantle the UN and start our own mini revolution. What if we were to talk of car bombs, corruption and who is behind the door of it all?

    African Joe

    February 26, 2018 at 2:51 pm

    • You only live once !! I want to do some good.

      Luke Dunn

      February 26, 2018 at 6:54 pm

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