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Scheme of Annoyances (2016)

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  • Scheme of Annoyances (2016)

    for some reason I came to think of this:

    Scheme of Annoyances


    there's a certain order to everything


    I lost count of how many times I've stumbled, fallen, got burned, flayed, was chopped up and knocked things over, not being able to hold on to other things - or maybe the same things, who knows, I have lost count of that too – have meant to say one thing but another came out - if anything - lost grip of both reality and dreams, visions and hallucinations, feeling at home in neither Heaven nor Purgatory; in short: been a sorry mess of human inadequacy. So I sat down in one of my 'not as horrible as normally' moments hoping to find and write down a scheme, discover a regular rhythm - if a such existed - for the appearance of these annoyances and arrived at this temporary list. Perhaps this will be the first step to find a way to live with ‘being human’ the way it has befallen me to be a human.

    Temporary scheme of annoyances:

    Mondays my brain is a mush if at all existing. I avoid speaking, thinking, making plans, philosophising, interaction with human beings, gods, demons, angels, monsters and all those creatures in between. I cannot make sense of what I hear or of what I speak. Words are far beyond my reach and have no content. It's usually a good day, Monday.
    learning to live with it death

    Tuesdays my hands tend to fall off or I wake up with them having changed places: right hand where the left should be and the left hand where the right should be. I avoid handling anything that can break - including human beings, animals and doctors or priests. (Not that I usually have anything to do with animals except for when they’re in a prepared state, cut up or minced or put in olive or sunflower oil in tins and glasses or frozen; much the same as when it comes to people …). Or my hands have detached themselves to walk around doing odd stuff I cannot prevent. They sorta resemble naughty monkeys or rats though they look more like spiders and I'm sure I have heard them laughing.
    as the trees fall asleep the church comes into view

    Wednesdays the lower extremities are off. Usually “only” my legs and feet, but sometimes even my private parts. Alternatively they are like rubber or out of control kicking, jerking, dancing on their own and my upper body has to follow whatever they think off doing be it a tango, kicking children and dogs, cars and stones, curling themselves around tree trunks or lampposts or old ladies and men with briefcases - for whatever unknown reason. What my private parts do on their own I will not mention. I just wish I could enjoy especially that part without feeling guilty.
    after the swallows the air's invisible again

    Thursdays the digestive system, or rather the digestive fire, is out of whack. An insatiable hunger makes me bite into everything of organic origin and often things I have long since discovered aren't food. If it isn't kept occupied and fed the fire breaks out like a volcano; my apartment bears witness to that with its sooty walls and burn marks. At the end of the day the fire solidifies and turns into a giant fire-horse-like creature that gallops off into the distance. If I'm lucky it comes out my mouth like a burp if not it exits from the “other end” or tears its way through my skin and I'm left with the mess of getting my scorched intestines back in place. If you happen to see a field of fire-horses - or animals looking like that - you know where they come from.
    chasing me through the village a young autumn wind

    Fridays my body turns into a metal and I feel what it's like to be a knight or a robot and it's extremely difficult to get anything done. (Those who know me would say it's difficult for me to get anything done, metal body or not, but what do they know, they cannot appreciate my struggles with existence and how could they? I haven't told anyone ...). It's o.k. for as long as I wake up well oiled or in a light-weight metal body, but if it's an iron day I rust before afternoon coffee and have to move very carefully as not to disintegrate into dust. If it's a lead day I hardly manage to get out of my marble bed (marble mattress, sheets of asbestos etc.) before nightfall, but the worst is a mercury day, then I cannot pull myself together to do anything (goes without much saying) and can only lie back in a shiny puddle redoing earlier cross-word puzzles according to (my failing) memory.
    yellow or not snow’s snow

    Saturdays I lose gravity or gravity deserts me. Wonder what it does when it's not here? I spend most of the day trying to “swim” around the house taking care of my needs but it's really not that easy. Lately it seems the condition rubs off on the things I touch and you have no idea just how much airspace ground coffee takes up. Of course I spend most of the following night tidying the place.
    too big for a bottle Western wind

    Sundays my brain, yes that again, dreams up all kinds of nightmares and doomsday visions beyond my control. If the scenes were only in my imagination, I wouldn't mind. I could just watch them unfold instead of watching lousy films on the telly. But of course they manifest themselves in the real world and you have no idea just how exhausting even a temporary end of the world and mankind is. Needless to say, but that's why my brain is mush on Mondays.
    taking off with its trumpet
    the very last

    Last edited by jshb; 02-27-2020, 04:03 AM.

  • #2
    Traces of Beckett. I like it!
    ghost cave i brush aside the dharma of a lobster god


    • #3
      Thanks for sharing this, Johannes, which I really appreciate since much of it relates to experiences I nominally call mine. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻


      • jshb
        jshb commented
        Editing a comment
        isn't it just the "getting older" thing? :-D