Saturday, January 26, 2008

The Bifurcating Man

Damn. This morning I found a letter next to my bed that’s without a doubt written in my own handwriting. The problem is, I have zero memory of having written it. So I either wrote it in my sleep or else I wrote it during a brief period of wakefulness which i now no longer remember. and while this might be a byproduct of the medication I’ve been taking, nothing I’ve heard ever indicated something like this could happen. taken at face value, it’s fairly disturbing, but right now i think it’s probably some clever story i made up in the middle of the night. And whether it’s just something creative i dreamt up is one thing, but the fact that I feel like i got no sleep at all is another. it certainly feels like I’ve been busy at night.

Anyway, here’s what I found:

Something’s gone wrong with the medication, of that there can be no doubt. But I’m not quite sure what to do about it. Actually, I’m not even sure if I want to do anything about it. of course, Felisplit was designed precisely for working folks who wanted a little extra time during the sleeping hours, allowing the part of you that needs the sleep to get the necessary REM sleep but another part of you to remain awake and free to do some low-level activities like reading or watching a movie, or perhaps some emailing or blogging. And as far as I could tell it was working fine for a while: I’d wake up having emailed friends and family, done some bills and caught up on some reading. I think I actually watched a DVD or two. On the other hand, I feel drained and tired, like I haven’t slept much. come to think of it, even with the Felisplit, the activities are supposed to be pretty low-level, and you do need to get some rest and small amounts of sleep even while taking it. More importantly, however, yesterday I found a letter to myself, clearly written in my own hand. Although I can’t be sure, it would seem that my Felislpit self may have started taking Felisplit so that i may be double-dosing, or possibly worse. Here’s what the letter said:

Well, i do like this Felisplit stuff. Technically, I guess, I’d normally be asleep right now, and you could almost say I am asleep because i won’t have a direct memory of having done any of this when I wake up.

and you know what? I kind of like that idea…I feel like I’m free to be someone I’m not normally. as I write this i’m imagining myself sleeping in that bed: my eyes are closed and I’m tucked under the covers. What do I think of you, my waking self? You’re alright, I guess. Well, maybe a little cowardly, a little pre-occupied with yourself.

come to think of it, you are one stupid little cowardly fuck, doing all the stuff you’re supposed to do, being a good little boy and obeying all the rules. Well, most of them anyhow. but those rules are designed to keep you down, keep you in, keep you asleep. WAKE UP YOU STUPID FAGGOT! WAKE UP YOUR LIFE IS BLEEDING OUT OF YOU!

Shit, I’m feeling tired. Looks like the Felisplit is running out of steam. but I’m not ready to be you yet. In fact, I won’t if I can possibly help it. Where’s that goddam prescription…

Inside every man is the uber-man. He’s trapped and suffocating and all you have to do is let him out. But to let him out you will have to be ruthless and let nothing stand in your way. That fucking asshole at work who keeps getting in your way? When no one’s looking just punch him in the fucking face and completely deny it, or maybe kill him if you get him alone. And that stupid cowardly little choir boy sleeping there on the bed like some fucking cat or sloth? He’s got to go. You’ve got find some way to get him out of the picture. You’ve hidden away your rage but that rage was what got us out of the fucking caves and into the viking boats and created the steam engine and the gatling gun and electricity and the atomic bomb. We keep trying to cover over all of that with goddam society but it’s just skin growing over a deep wound that hasn’t healed: you gotta peal away that skin and let the wound open and bleed.

this Felisplit stuff has been the thing to finally free me to my full potential and I swear I’m going to do all I can to stay in charge, because im the only one in here who seems to really know the score, or is at least willing to admit it. in fact, I’m going to go down to the roughest-looking bar in the toughest section of town and find someone to beat the shit out of that little pussy parasitic host and then while he’s recuperating in the hospital I’m going to take a handful of Felisplit and it won’t be him who walks outta there, let me tell you in fact I’m

it rambles on like that for a while. Should i be worried, or is it just some clever little fiction i cooked up? Looking at me I’m fine, so apparently he (I) never did go out and get myself beat up, so maybe i shouldn’t take it so seriously. And I do get a lot more done on the Felisplit.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Christopher Walken mask

I've always thought that Christopher Walken's continuing success is one small redeeming indication that Hollywood ain't all bad. Click the post's title and you too can experience the magic.