Waiting for the Voices
Apr. 14th, 2010 11:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perzephone
I feel so strange tonight. Almost like I'm on painkillers or something. Drugged. Getting that floatiness that accompanies narcotics. But I'm sober, haven't even had so much as Bailey's today. I keep getting weird chills and flushes, dizzy spells, disorientation. I've eaten today, I should be grounded. Going back to the casino means I'm in thrall of the jaguar, nicotine city, but nicotine doesn't do this to me.
I feel like Something's trying to talk to me, maybe the thunder babies, or Thunderbird. Power walks outside, even when inside it's all quiet.
I can't even say that, though. Since looking at the photos of the past, the goms have been active. That, and I got mad at Rob the other day because he's been obsessing on all the things that might possibly injure the dog, to the point where he cannot leave her at home to go take care of anything. I just started randomly throwing stuff away and tearing things off the walls. No more magnets on the fridge, no more little chewable things rolling around on my desk, no more things dangling from thumbtacks... anything the dog could possibly find and eat that might harm her was thrown away. Whenever I get mad, I tend to move things around, and things get stirred up. It's amazing how much the material objects in a home can hold onto energy, dust weighs it down, time compresses it, so when it gets tossed into turmoil, all that old crap is released into the atmosphere. But when I'm angry, the goms flee before me. They know if I could catch them when I'm in that state of mind, I might just rip their tiny little heads off like dandelion flowers. I saw something peeping around the corner of the wall in my room, and when I turned my attention onto it, it froze for a second and then scattered in three directions. When Rob came in from pulling weeds, he looked around & asked, "how long was I outside?" because he didn't seem to believe how much damage I could do in so short a time. He's lucky he came in when he did because I was not finished. He's still looking for things that have turned up missing, and when he asks, I tell him, "the dog could eat it".
I burnt it up, though. Today there was a moth under my chair at work. I coaxed it onto my finger and it stayed there as I walked across the casino until I could get it out a door and onto a bush.
I feel like Something's trying to talk to me, maybe the thunder babies, or Thunderbird. Power walks outside, even when inside it's all quiet.
I can't even say that, though. Since looking at the photos of the past, the goms have been active. That, and I got mad at Rob the other day because he's been obsessing on all the things that might possibly injure the dog, to the point where he cannot leave her at home to go take care of anything. I just started randomly throwing stuff away and tearing things off the walls. No more magnets on the fridge, no more little chewable things rolling around on my desk, no more things dangling from thumbtacks... anything the dog could possibly find and eat that might harm her was thrown away. Whenever I get mad, I tend to move things around, and things get stirred up. It's amazing how much the material objects in a home can hold onto energy, dust weighs it down, time compresses it, so when it gets tossed into turmoil, all that old crap is released into the atmosphere. But when I'm angry, the goms flee before me. They know if I could catch them when I'm in that state of mind, I might just rip their tiny little heads off like dandelion flowers. I saw something peeping around the corner of the wall in my room, and when I turned my attention onto it, it froze for a second and then scattered in three directions. When Rob came in from pulling weeds, he looked around & asked, "how long was I outside?" because he didn't seem to believe how much damage I could do in so short a time. He's lucky he came in when he did because I was not finished. He's still looking for things that have turned up missing, and when he asks, I tell him, "the dog could eat it".
I burnt it up, though. Today there was a moth under my chair at work. I coaxed it onto my finger and it stayed there as I walked across the casino until I could get it out a door and onto a bush.
