Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

psycho

I dreamed I was trying to kill Mel last night.  As he climbed a cliff, I stabbed him in the chest with a spear.  He was very annoyed when I saw him later. 

There was an airport in my dream.  I frequently dream of airports.  I'm usually late for my flight to nowhere.

My visits to church are strange.  I attend services at my sister's church - so called because she's lived in D much longer than I have and so lays claim to the very large church.  Shortly before the battles began, my eX began taking the kids to the church.  After the battles heated up, she began bringing her boyfriend and his daughters to the church.  So on Sunday morning, we all worship in the presence of old unresolved feelings.

I used a hypnosis yesterday called "block release" intended to help move past painful events.  It seems to have done me some good.  My desire to infect brains with lead seems to have diminished. 

My work with meditation is reaching interesting places.  With the biofeedback device, I am finding myself capable of reducing my tensions and anxieties to calm-sea levels.  I wish I had better words to describe these experiences, but their novelty catches me without a decent vocabulary.  I will work on finding expressions so that I can share the things I have learned.

The kids hate leaving us.  It is a bit painful to send them off, feeling their desire to stay.  It could be worse.  They could be wishing to leave.  Every week, they call the eX to ask her if they can stay longer.  Maybe someday the eX will wake up and realize how much she has been hurting her children.  Maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt.

I enjoy the wails of denial that arise when I point out that all allergies are psychosomatic.  In truth, most diseases are psychosomatic.  Why does that idea bother people so much?  Psychosomatic illness can kill just as easily as wounds.  I suspect people just don't like the responsibility implied by the formula. 

If I were a tyrant, I would purge people who complain. 

Sometimes it is difficult to feel Christmassy in the warmth of the Texas winter.  Yesterday was sixty-seven.  We won't be dashing through the snow anytime soon.

I'm patiently waiting for half-a-dozen people to write me a check.  They, undoubtably, are all waiting for six more people to write them checks.  Perhaps everyone is waiting for someone else to write a check.  Somewhere, perhaps, there is a person who will write the first check and begin the avalanche of money down trickledown mountain.  Oh, well.  Money is overrated.

In my dream, I picked up an automatic weapon and shot several badduns as they approached.  The guns were Mel's.  I couldn't find them later when another attack came.

The real key to spiritual development comes with the power of closed-eye visualization.   This is a skill that must be learned at great cost. 

Virtues sparkle.

M

posted by: Malinov at 09:13 | link | comments (1) |

Comments:

#1  13 December 2005 - 12:14

 

There's a greater likelihood of seeing monkeys fly out of your butt than the eX realizing how much she hurts the children. Though one can only hope for the latter, but the former would surely envoke laughter all-around.

solyluna

Comments: