A Burning Desire To Scribble The Hour Away

I find myself fixed in an abyss between hell and heaven, both being metaphors for life on earth. Religion really is pagan, regardless of it’s fictitious lathered up ireality, in the end it is just a reflection of us all…. in reality, how we are. We are religion aren’t we? We’re the devil and god; we change landscapes, kill and save as we please. As a collective we are the almighty. It’s all we know and all we can draw our conclusions from, forming the basis of how we govern ourselves and understand the world around us….
Anyway back to the abyss…stuck in a zone of purposeless existence, meaning not a jot to the world, flirting with the pain of reality yet capable of indulging in pasta and wine…. bored…that’s the word I’m looking for.
It’s 5:36 a.m. I have no intention of going to bed and shan’t succumb to the pit of sleep as I did last night after breakfast. I’m in a bizarre sagacious mood, listening to Philip glass and thinking about marriage. Not that I have a fiancé yet but I find myself pondering upon it more these days, I suppose I occasionally find the odd grey hair these days also so maybe it’s not a good thing. Hell what’s up with me…I still have yet to have a threesome so maybe marriage should be delayed? At least, that is, until I can afford a châteaux anyway. Balderdash.
I have this urge to write a novel…god knows what about, but it’s the same urge driving me to write this blog. Maybe it’s because I haven’t left the flat in four days…I’m ready to explode with more energy than dead star on the brink of…well, exploding. Normally I’d reach for the wine, wine seems to calm the burning nuclear fire in me, stopping it from projecting its beam across sensible society and blinding everyone into panic. I suppose booze just stops me dead, cognitively and physically, maybe I should take drugs instead… but not at this hour, that would be silly.


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