I have been underground for some months. Trolls - or perhaps Dwarves, or Republicans - tricked me into their darkened, sun-deprived lair with the promise of release from pain. It was, of course, a shameless lie, but I was desperate, and gullible enough to pursue it. As a reward, I drowned five months of my life in some sticky fluid - lost forever, or so it seems.
Actually, not "lost": I gained much knowledge, almost all of it unwelcome. However, a beam of light penetrated the density of my increasingly sluggish perceptual apparatus, and, as a result, I crawled out of my self-inflicted hole. Of course, I prefer to call it "their" hole, and to blame "them" for my being in it, but that would not only be disingenuous - it would also put the lie to whatever insight I have gleaned by virtue of said bolt of lightning which snapped my fog. So: my hole, my fault. Mea culpa and all that.
So here's the story, faithful reader. Or unfaithful - or faithless - what do I know? What do you know? What do any of us know? Which, in fact, is the point I was trying to get to...
Whilst (homage to the long history of the language which I so freely mangle) deep in the lair of darkness, the following chain of events transpired:
No, dear reader (don't you hate that?) - I was not released, awakened, by a gifted intercession. To the contrary, I was poisoned. Self-poisoned, if you must know. And this I will further describe, haï lecteur - as soon as I can rub the sensation back into my wrists, scarred, chaffed and bruise-pocked as they are...
Actually, not "lost": I gained much knowledge, almost all of it unwelcome. However, a beam of light penetrated the density of my increasingly sluggish perceptual apparatus, and, as a result, I crawled out of my self-inflicted hole. Of course, I prefer to call it "their" hole, and to blame "them" for my being in it, but that would not only be disingenuous - it would also put the lie to whatever insight I have gleaned by virtue of said bolt of lightning which snapped my fog. So: my hole, my fault. Mea culpa and all that.
So here's the story, faithful reader. Or unfaithful - or faithless - what do I know? What do you know? What do any of us know? Which, in fact, is the point I was trying to get to...
Whilst (homage to the long history of the language which I so freely mangle) deep in the lair of darkness, the following chain of events transpired:
- I accepted the "obvious truth" than my pain was unnecessary, useless, and preventable (must I cut to the chase and presage the plot pivot? the necessary, the needed, the irrevocable?)...
- Shortly thereafter, I noticed that my perceptual apparatus had spawned a comforting, distancing cushioning layer... a feeling as if I had descended into a sensual bliss characterized by some randy flavor of attractive unconsciousness...
- Which cushioning and opacity continued to deepen until I no longer had my bearings...
- And I found myself enthusiastic about truly horrible and reprehensible behaviors and perspectives...
- But as I noticed the extreme growth of my fingernails and toenails, and watched with fascination and a covert horror as they, graying and striated, curled back upon themselves...
- and then: zap!
No, dear reader (don't you hate that?) - I was not released, awakened, by a gifted intercession. To the contrary, I was poisoned. Self-poisoned, if you must know. And this I will further describe, haï lecteur - as soon as I can rub the sensation back into my wrists, scarred, chaffed and bruise-pocked as they are...
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