Lately I've been thinking how feelings for someone tend to include key elements of that person's essence in them. For me it's an assortment of sound clips, the face in a particular expression and a feeling of rushing energy that takes me from baseline to the particular level of whichever emotion i'm trying to recall/ whichever emotion that recollection elicits.
Same for any different person, for any different emotion. I label my feelings clearly and neatly. I tidy around them to make little piles of debris. I decorate with leftovers, in assymetrical threes or spread out dots and with great finesse, lifting my right hand pinky up in the air as far as it goes.
I am not always blessed with the choice of recall however. I assume this is the same for other human beings around- but I do tend to feel very special in equal measures of 'cursed' and 'gifted'. When this intrusion of memories happens, I am often caught offguard, and forced to travel to the empty room inside my head. I am attacked by all the attached information all at once and at the same time consecutively- in complete random order. Faces, falling down as more memories jump up. It's like a virtual reality room, only it's inside my size 34 head. And I took that EEG and we now know for sure that:
a) i'm an excellent reaction task taker, cuz of my inability to let anything go unnoticed (regardless of my choice to act on it or not)
b) i have a perfectly functioning brain that likes computer graphics and represents itself as it should
c) i am completely lost in a battle of interest between my life and internal narrative and complete dislike for anything ever experienced in me, or others' experience of me, fearing 'cliche' as the worst possible label anyone could ever be described as.
So this intrusion of recall is often followed by a burning salad of emotions. The main one is that of irritation for the lack of warning and the disorder of this visit. Then you could say that complete dissolution in the dancing changes in me takes place. I become lost. Completely. More than I did when I blacked out as a child and stared into space for an hour not moving. More than I couldn't remember what I'd had for lunch 3 hours later. My sense of being and feeling all gets caught up in the parade and soon i'm staring at my face, like a player parade on the Wii. Grotesque cliche characteristics. How can this be anything I recognise?
I try to move and then I start suspecting I won't be able to feel it. I am always right in this. Gigantic body below from what I can see. I must be bending my head forward and looking down then. My recall is disrupted by a thousand anxious me's whispering simultaneously: can i feel, can i feel, can i feel? am i alive? am i me? have i died? will i live? can i feel? can you see me? where am i? i'm so calm! i am calm! this is cold. this is weird. can i feel? fuck. fuck can i feel? i can. it's fine. it's fine. i promise. i don't believe you. you should. who are you anyway? i'm you. it's all fine. calm. calm. they can see you. you can't but they can. there's nothing to worry about. u might have died but that's done now so calm down. OK.
Panic attacks and Depersonalisation and Stupidity and Self-Absorption and would i ever have 'suffered' if i had grown up on a farm? physical exhaustion and de-reality and sleep and good grub.
would i have learnt I am so complicated, if i didn't have the language to think it in? would i have understood space and nothingness if I hadn't been taught about it, and what difference does it make.
'we come here to live. we float and we leave. we come hear to leeave. we flote and we live. we come here to eat. we fuck and we shit. we come here out of necessity and tradition and magic and nothing and- what is it exactly you can't understand again? be specific. be specific. please explain in every detail. i need to understand to be able to tidy this up. clutter only leads to more unpredictable visits and i really don't want to faint on this bus'
Same for any different person, for any different emotion. I label my feelings clearly and neatly. I tidy around them to make little piles of debris. I decorate with leftovers, in assymetrical threes or spread out dots and with great finesse, lifting my right hand pinky up in the air as far as it goes.
I am not always blessed with the choice of recall however. I assume this is the same for other human beings around- but I do tend to feel very special in equal measures of 'cursed' and 'gifted'. When this intrusion of memories happens, I am often caught offguard, and forced to travel to the empty room inside my head. I am attacked by all the attached information all at once and at the same time consecutively- in complete random order. Faces, falling down as more memories jump up. It's like a virtual reality room, only it's inside my size 34 head. And I took that EEG and we now know for sure that:
a) i'm an excellent reaction task taker, cuz of my inability to let anything go unnoticed (regardless of my choice to act on it or not)
b) i have a perfectly functioning brain that likes computer graphics and represents itself as it should
c) i am completely lost in a battle of interest between my life and internal narrative and complete dislike for anything ever experienced in me, or others' experience of me, fearing 'cliche' as the worst possible label anyone could ever be described as.
So this intrusion of recall is often followed by a burning salad of emotions. The main one is that of irritation for the lack of warning and the disorder of this visit. Then you could say that complete dissolution in the dancing changes in me takes place. I become lost. Completely. More than I did when I blacked out as a child and stared into space for an hour not moving. More than I couldn't remember what I'd had for lunch 3 hours later. My sense of being and feeling all gets caught up in the parade and soon i'm staring at my face, like a player parade on the Wii. Grotesque cliche characteristics. How can this be anything I recognise?
I try to move and then I start suspecting I won't be able to feel it. I am always right in this. Gigantic body below from what I can see. I must be bending my head forward and looking down then. My recall is disrupted by a thousand anxious me's whispering simultaneously: can i feel, can i feel, can i feel? am i alive? am i me? have i died? will i live? can i feel? can you see me? where am i? i'm so calm! i am calm! this is cold. this is weird. can i feel? fuck. fuck can i feel? i can. it's fine. it's fine. i promise. i don't believe you. you should. who are you anyway? i'm you. it's all fine. calm. calm. they can see you. you can't but they can. there's nothing to worry about. u might have died but that's done now so calm down. OK.
Panic attacks and Depersonalisation and Stupidity and Self-Absorption and would i ever have 'suffered' if i had grown up on a farm? physical exhaustion and de-reality and sleep and good grub.
would i have learnt I am so complicated, if i didn't have the language to think it in? would i have understood space and nothingness if I hadn't been taught about it, and what difference does it make.
'we come here to live. we float and we leave. we come hear to leeave. we flote and we live. we come here to eat. we fuck and we shit. we come here out of necessity and tradition and magic and nothing and- what is it exactly you can't understand again? be specific. be specific. please explain in every detail. i need to understand to be able to tidy this up. clutter only leads to more unpredictable visits and i really don't want to faint on this bus'
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