Nothing left to say to you. This is how it feels—a ragged stomach-hole. Some kind of pressure. Some bit of proud that he’s so uncommon. Some bit of fear. Some bit of panic, that I just want all of this to go away and that (my friend), detachment. Hard-hearted. Fuck. Jesus Fuck.
Tag Archives: pressure
Inconclusive, in conclusion.
Abusive, people under pressure.
Sometimes I can take it.
Other times I start to have a breakdown.
Sadly.
Sometimes—no, not sometimes. Why vagueness?
It’s better to be March.
It’s better to be rain and snow in March.
It’s better to be best in class.
I am really struggling with a lot of questions—
- WRITING (I crave my eerie freedom)
- Relationship—how much is too much
- Dharma friendships (Batchelor)
- The coffee doesn’t taste like coffee
- America
- and where to go from here
Maybe this is the tail end of my tenure working I am certainly chafing under all the structure I felt Linda closing the lid down on my dear chaos Friday and I wanted to cry especially since there was no way to explain EXPLAIN—
pressures pressures decompression after Eli’s birthday party yesterday my eyes my eyes my moon
Absence of relaxation today—what? pressure? the house is a pressure.
Pressure—pleasure—pressure—pleasure—someone has to have the answers
why does it seem like my goal is to stump them?
I heard something on the radio yesterday about supermarkets and the vast surplus of food/calories we produce here in the US. The radio voices said—No wonder we are confused—due to the pressure of food marketing. I am immune to food marketing.
I close my eyes to it. I used to get overwhelmed in the supermarket, until I blinded myself. Every year, I buy fewer and fewer packaged goods. No meat. Less and less fish. Ordering herbs and tea in bulk, online. This is a project full of pleasure.
A possible sadness antidote.