Path of Deconstruction

I don't drink. This is not a moral choice but rather a reality choice.

For a while, when my MS was real bad, everything started to smell like cheese. It's hard to put into words what happens when your existence becomes not just cheese, but the essence of cheese. It was as if some mad scientist created a chemical to remind you of cheese.

The same kind of thing when you realize that it was just a smelly sneaker and not provolone.

Anyway that was enough surreal - reality for my taste (excuse the pun) and since then I've tried to keep myself grounded in the rational. Hence - no drinking.

... but lately, I've started to deconstruct. Not my mental state (thank goodness) but my views on art and literature. I've had the impulse to take a picture of a dusty lampshade from all different angles and throw it together in a collage of sorts. Or to tape random noises in my backyard and then run it through Dragon Naturally Speaking software, just to see what story pops out.

Don't worry - I'm not going postmodern. At least, I don't think I am. Oh God, I hope not.

Maybe I'll grow my beard out just a bit more. That always seems to help. - allows me plenty of time to scratch and ponder. There is gray and some white in my beard these days. Sad to think I would need to dye it black to look young again for that all too important, non-existing interview.

Maybe get my teeth whitened; get those caps that make old people thud their words. My daughter would laugh at me. or maybe not. In any case, she would scold me for trying to be someone different than DaDa.

Perhaps I should just sit by my artichoke plant and watch the alien flowers bloom out of the cactus like bud.

You know it's the heart of the artichoke that has to explode in order for the plant to flower.

Back in Action

Kmuzu will be back in action soon.