Sunday, October 3, 2010

When a psychic is called for

I need to summon a psychic. None of my normal attempts at things are working. I talk myself through any number of situations, then once I feel that I have the various elements understood and accounted for, I communicate those ideas to whomever I should.

That's when things start to fall apart. I'm not sure if I've lost my sense of reason or humor, or both. Even harmless situations and communiques become some form of misunderstood embarrassment. Though my capacity for shame is diminishing in an inverted exponential way in relation to most of these situations, and people.

Perhaps I need the guidance of a spiritual counselor, somebody who can tell me what I need to hear, and to face the hard facts of the universe... someone who will explain the intricate mysteries of humanity to me so that I can see clearly, where before I saw only veiled confusion and opaque befuddlement.

Who knows.....

It just comes as quite a relief that in all of the confusing situations I've created that none of them have served to impede the endless flow of cocaine into any of my friend's bodies. That, of course, would have been a real psychic disaster.