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...A mental shakedown. Maybe that's overstating the case... ...but it sure doesn't feel like it. Even now, it's less like a pulse, and more like being pounded in the chest with a mallet. BOOM ...pressure BOOM ...apprehension BOOM ...expectation BOOM ...futility BOOM ...frustration For no reason. No drugs. No stumulus. No contact. No let up. From the minute I stopped reading the newspaper, and began to gather up my belongings and cover my tracks at Diva's in the early afernoon, it's been a never-ending case of major heebie-jeebies. Whatever the fuck they are. Every nerve-ending spitting uncontrolled, unchanneled sparks. Naturally, there are shitpiles of calculations and templates to construct. No margin for error... and it's impossible to get it right, the first time. Or the second. Thrills. Spills. Abortive attempts. The simplest tasks, major efforts. God Damn It. Tomorrow is another day. Assuming I get by this one. |
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