Sunday, July 27, 2014

shot to follow

ba. No nrg.  The soft cap does not erupt, ignite, less explode.

The parenthesis, (o), is an inexplicable blank. An empty chamber. An uncalibrated round of muted applause.

Not much has happened in the intervening years - psychosis; invalidity; crippling paranoia; sedation - but the churning underpins the explanation which one fears is inevitably demanded. Continuity.

There was a brief period of incarceration, stick it to me two times, I confess, but let's not infer anything incriminating beyond the merest suspicion of guilt. Less than one grain. Diluted twofold.

The first evolved over 48 hours at the close of 2011, my own Protex Blue. The second involved a short spell on a psychiatric ward some months later, but ended in my walking away too, nonetheless pursued, though I'm determinedly not about to begin fingering Blind Meloncholy. Washington, Jefferson, Nixon or a burned out Ford. A peanut harvester down on the farm.

My complexion is far too wan to properly pull it off.

I shed a lot of weight - identity too -  put it all back on in an instant. Consenting to medication. The cunting Procurator Fiscal tailed me relentlessly, would not let it sleep, but the courts found in my favour regardless. Not that their wigs are deserving of the merest thanks. A woeful tale of the indelible stain of an unwarranted Section 38. The rifled baggage of a marriage. Divorce.

The fiscal's representative nursed acne scars while I nursed an unspoken grievance. My own scars. The fuckers detained me but would not let me speak. With or without proper legal counsel.

And so. I'm back in black.

Rum and Coke, Rye and Coke, Brandy and Coke. The Aripiprazole without the coke.

I'm not being deliberately obtuse. Just a little soused.


Brushback said...

Ha. Welcome.

ib said...

Hey. Digging the new look.

Your pic, that is, not this damn blogger interface. It took me some time here to piece together the process behind responding to a comment. Maybe it's just an incipient hangover tugging on my ding dong.

Anyway. Good to see you.

Brushback said...

Blogger is still shit, by the way. Tumblr is way better and a lot easier to us (though it doesn't lend itself to graphics as much)

ib said...

Well, I've seen Tumblr out there, and it has a definite immediacy - something lacking here of late - but it kind of irritates me too how closely it resembles Twatter.

As they said of Tiger Woods, recently; "Not quite feeling it in the hands today". Especially around the greens, never mind on the bleachers.

Glad to see that Incremental Decrepitude made for a second outing.


As has been said before & by better than I..."Welcome back, my friend, to the show (LIFE!!!) that never ends ('til it's too late for us to know).

You know the rest of the story.

I am indeed sinning well (as well as I may).

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

I knew you would be back. Back in time to vote for country's liberation I should think.

ib said...

@ NØ:

Hey. 'Tis a far better quote than one referencing that woefully insidious track off Leo Sayer's "Silverbird". That's for sure. Thanks.

@ Beer:

After careful deliberation. There is really only one way to vote. Throw caution to the wind. Let it settle on that slowly dispersing slick of North Sea Oil.

jonder said...

To the small but growing chorus of "welcome back" I add another dormant blogger's voice.

ib said...

Thanks, brother jonder. It is not easy to keep the momentum going, I know. 2011 was an odd year, the margin between it and now becoming increasingly unnavigable.

Since I have all but forgotten how to post a soundtrack of sorts - the perceived burden of the attempt, DMCA + FBI - I am all the more delighted to hear even a small chorus.

gregcondon said...

welcome back to the internet, ib ! looking forward to the future posts.

ib said...

Thanks, greg.

Since things are stripped to the bone here now - words marching into the ether - it's good to know that even a few have the stamina.