. . . I was a teenager working in a paint store & got caught huffing Nitrous Oxide. (We actually did this.) Must be feeling guilty about the mild euphorias of opioid pain medications.
& the dull normal rain-gray seconds
& subdivisions of seconds
& somehow sentences.
Very deep physical / mental fatigue beginning around three o’clock most afternoons, extending through until dinnertime when I begin to pick up a bit. Slight tingling in scalp & neck.
Just being phenomenological.
Typical late-Autumn weather for our part of the country. Cold & sodden. When I first got sick & was posting to the blog I found myself in a highly discursive mood; these days I have very little interest in explanation & for the time being at least these posts will be more like chart entries, though without any of the imposed regularity implied by the traditional notion of a chart. Loose, intuitive, even impulsive charts of perception & interpretation, then. Sending out signals. Do you remember spinning the dial on your grandfather’s old room-sized short-wave radio? Foreign languages? Static. Radio beacons. Morse code. A world, a room, filled with mysterious voices mediated through curtains of rain.
. . . in the visual field, especially at the edges & in low light. Partly the effects of opioids & partly the result of interrupted REM sleep for several nights running. When I do sleep mostly through the night I wake with a feeling of restored clarity. It is remarkable how much awareness changes as the senses distort somatic patterns.
Around 6:00 a.m. I take the day’s first handful of pills, including a dose of long-acting morphine. Works for pain as intended, but it also provides a bit of mild euphoria that feels entirely deserved.