Good god, I had to take a pot edible and half a Xanax bar to force myself back to sleep around 3am this morning after several hours of tossing and turning and fretting. Then, an early appointment with the eye doctor. I forgot to write a post. Just now I realized, and here we are.
Nobody here knows what has happened to me in the last year. Well, my one and only reader does, but why should that stop me? The Family Q6 went to Europe (Madrid, Ibiza, and London) and Burning Man (Black Rock City) over the summer with the boy. Here he stands in front of Goya's The Naked Maja in Madrid. Goya, I do not believe, gave it that name. This and The Clothed Maja were sold to a private collector. They were unnamed, I believe, though I know they were collected without much interest or faith in their value. They were found in a collection long after the artist's death and became well-known after his death, along with all of the Black Paintings. Yet, there they are, hanging in the Prado.
The phrase hanging in the Prado makes me think of suicide more than art. Perhaps I have a depressed mind.
The boy and I have been jamming. I've ordered a special midi conversion box and will try to route the signals from his electronic drum kit to a drum machine, so that he can play from a wider variety of kits, and where I can more easily add effects and apply some production techniques to make us sound cooler and better than we are. Today on the guitar I was really something. I almost plugged a microphone in and started a modest effects loop, just for kicks. I believe the phrase to describe it is shoegaze.
CS tells me he misses the drink, but I'm not so sure I do. I like sobriety. Once you adjust to the odd differences in time's passing, and learn to accept the cruel clarity of sobriety, it's not so bad after all. Your joy is more diffuse, unrecognizable and spread out more evenly through the day. I like sobriety and all other prayers of desperation.
This is my personal report for MLK Day, 2023. My, my... how things have changed.
The eye doctor told me that something very unusual is happening. The vision in my left eye keeps improving, and the vision in my right eye keeps getting worse. He explained that degeneration is usually one way, and not towards recovery. He said that perhaps my mind has learned to adjust to the myopia and uses one eye to focus on objects that are further away and the other for objects that are much closer. He encouraged me not to think about it too much, that the mind is a very odd thing, and even more so in how we interact with the world around us. That was at 8am this morning.
.
