:: My Reality ::

"80% Alternate Universe, 20% Barely Hanging On!"
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:: Thursday, June 09, 2005 ::

Southern Summer has once again enveloped us with it's hot, wet breath. Every year I promise this will be my last deep south June/July/August. This year it may surely be the truth. Lean your head out the window for a few minutes and sweat pops in big droplets. It gets in my eyes; it bleeds through my shirts. I make low grunting sounds as I shuffle from my office building to my car. "The only good summer is a dead summer," I say to the stillness. The answer is billowing heat from my closed up vehicle. I am stabbing fingers at the AC controls but even 'Max Air' is not enough. I'm already wilted. My little Korean auto slinks home in blistering five o'clock traffic, each of us roasting in hell. I zone out to somewhere cold...not cool but cold. Snow squeaking, crunching under foot, freezing wind turning my sweat to ice. But these moments are fleeting.

I take refuge at the International Food Market in Decatur where the temp is a constant 64 degrees. Noone speaks English here, the place smells of fish. But never mind, it's cool in here. I pick up some fruit, I dally as long as I can. I'm hoping that either a Thunderstorm or night has taken the edge off. But no. It's still hot outside.

I drive home, at least traffic has cleared. My programmed thermostat has my indoor temperature down below seventy. Yet still I sweat and swear and promise for the umpteenth time that this will be my last Southern Summer.

:: Tom 1:08 PM [+] ::
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:: Tuesday, June 07, 2005 ::
I need a new drug! I've got to find something that will quiet these paranoid delusions. It is most disconcerting and generally a real pain to have to live through these episodes. Guess I need to find the behaviours which trigger them. I have two which are suspect, both fall in the class of shady activity. That pretty much points a finger at my Cop Patrol personality, an overdeveloped tyrant who accepts nothing less that perfection. It is at war with the snake in the grass Self, the trickster, who delights in pricking the Pig. Same old Yin-Yang with me stuck in the middle, trying to hold the duality together until I get me a new guitar. After that they can have at it!

:: Tom 8:46 AM [+] ::
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