Two of Swords.

One thing is for sure and that is the environment is behaving very dramatically. If it’s possible to gauge the internal state someone is experiencing from what is going on outside of them then our internal state judging from what is going on around us must be pretty turbulent. Things are going for a ball of sh!t right now, according to that. During this week the coastline stretching the width of the Garden Route turned into a raging inferno. Fire lit up the sky not quite like anyone remembers ever seeing the likes of before. The story went along the lines of something a little more extravagant. Something a little more otherworldly. It wound its way slowly from the everyday type of deal to somewhere else completely.

In that place it turns out that nothing is real.

It wound its way slowly, casually, and confidently, connecting all the dots that were necessary, easily leading even the most cynical and doubtful person to the same incredible conclusion. There was no point though. For anyone that might have been interested the story did not provide any satisfactory relief. No comfort at all actually. For all that it had to offer that was different from here, for all that it had to offer that would make what happens here redundant, and petty… Trivial. Unimportant. And ultimately safe… Bearable. Understandable. The explanation, the description, the realization of any alternative truth, whatever it is that stood in for what is busy happening… Well. That thing ended up being somewhat more…

Terrible.

That whole crowd being led by their savior gasped at the sight of what he’d led them to. Tried to turn back and return to wherever they had come from. Return to their previous worldview. Suddenly, as sh!t as it all had looked before it still had a lot more to offer. I’d been so close. I could almost taste it. Right there at the brink, the verge of some thing big. In some corner of my mind I wonder if that’s what brought all this on, this debacle, this obstacle. The gods had observed being approached by a lone soldier. They didn’t agree that he’d suffered enough, hadn’t experienced his fair share of torment. This guy had approached like a thief in the night.

He’d have to try harder.

It’s an intimidating scenario. I must confess I could completely lose interest. I could completely submerge once more into the murky depths, buckle under the weight of it. Lose interest. Give up hope. This situation doesn’t leave much room for anything outside of it, it’s a demanding little fncker that wants every last scrap of your undivided attention. It begs for your belief in it, persuades you that it is very real. It’s very real and it’s very painful. It’s very real and it’s very painful and it’s very unfair. Its pain and injustice is all consuming, submit to it for it is all great and powerful. Deny it at your own peril. There is nothing else.

Nothing else is as real as this.

“Your eyes are the holes where you suck in your knees
There’s steel in the air and there’s blood on the wheels
There’s steel in the air and there’s blood on the wheels
But there’s nothing to fear because nothing here’s real”

~Angels of Light – Promise of Water~

The card of the day for today – the Two of Swords; “…could also be indicating that you are ignoring your emotions, using logic to deny how you’re feeling. You may be denying the truth, or compartmentalizing some aspect of your life in order to not have to deal with it.” Where else except in a place where nothing is real can such a random coincidence occur? Where a piece of paper with words on it appears and tells you what is going on, right here, right now? Is what is going on so obvious, so predictable? Nothing escapes from view when the night sky is lit up by the full moon, like some kind of bloody and terrible all-seeing third eye. How much of this narrative is just fiction, how much of it is just a story. How much of it is being told in a way that seems to make sense only to me.

From the outside what is really happening?

My version involves an old friend getting in touch. He managed to track me down somehow. I guess that’s not impossible these days because of the internet. The last time I spoke to this guy is just shy of thirty years ago. And, as it turns out, we only really hung out for about a year or so. J@. I always wondered what had happened to him. Well, that’s not very true actually really. I might have asked a mutual friend about him a few months ago. Then one night recently my sisters were going through a box of old photographs that mom keeps at the house. One of the pictures had him standing around in there, right inside one of them.

What came to mind then was all sorts of warm and fuzzy. He was a nice guy. I’d forgotten precisely how things had ended. That story involves another two friends at the time and the byproduct of boredom. Under the influence of some alcohol and the alcohol having run out, we’d come up with the most awesome and excellent idea that involved stealing some beer from J@s father. Instead of J@s father not noticing that some beer went missing he walked into the kitchen just as I was walking out the back door with it.

I ran.

He gave chase.

We’d come to the house in a car and when I got back in it we left in a hurry. The rest of the story involves what an act I put on pretending like it hadn’t been me that had got up to any mischief. But the truth did eventually surface less than a day or two later, as the truth is wont to do and I guess the perception that the parents of my friends had had of me which right up to that point had been something akin to being somewhat of a diamond in the rough, well, it went from something like that to something a little more dirty. Where it had been okay to hang out with each other before, well, now suddenly it wasn’t.

I’d forgotten how horrible I’d felt about the whole damn sorry situation, and it wasn’t something I could fix any time soon. No pill for that unfortunately. So. Considering everything that is going on. I’m curious about having this dialogue now with someone that for all intents and purposes could just be a figment of my imagination. Is that what would come to light if anyone examined my reality with some degree of objectivity? Would they surmise that this guy isn’t in touch with an old friend at all, not even an old friend from the past. Would they uncover a slightly more sinister Revelation: this guy is having a mental break-down; he’s having a schizophrenic episode.

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