Getting Out of My Head...

Please consider an example of "in my head."

Thus far my existential adventure has run rich. The smooth periods flow like ambrosia. The other periods cough like my early Japanese hatchback toward the end of its life.

Now kindly allow me to attempt "out of my head."

What a fucking joke! Gift of life, my ass. Survival seems mighty overrated. Tell me again, why ought I keep breathing? Give me all four F's of the limbic system, pretty please...pretty pretty please.

Well, such is my best at expressing the essence of rage and sorrow while seated behind a keyboard. My difficulty? Dissociation. My brain here. The rest of me somewhere else. "Brainy, brawny, and busty" promises great delights for one's self but instead performs party tricks for an audience.

So, perhaps unloading my memory of bothersome reruns will help me to set aside the intellect and allow sensations to emerge. At this late date, smarts won't help much. Gotta simply clean house. Wish me luck...if you so desire. Cheers!