Monday, August 14, 2006

tALISMANS: mY pHARMACOPOEIA*

I generally awaken to a deficiency of energy, most of it having been eaten away the day before by compulsions and ritualizations; the nausea and fatigue of greeting a new day at odds with myself and the world around me. Though I make no claims to religion, I am a superstitious man; a savage who’s life is ruled by rituals, symbols and fear. My obsessions and compulsions are my talismans, my pharmacopoeia, the only things preventing me from descending into a Dantean Inferno of anxiety and dread. I have just awakened; the storm rousting me from the clutter of sleep. The day has begun, but I have not. I will have little say in what happens, how things play out, they will follow their own irritable logic, leaving me to play catch-up, trying hopelessly to contain the anxiety and dread that shadows my ever move.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz