World War III Radio: Dementia Simplex – Prediction (1995)

I wonder sometimes, if I simply ended these morning routines, what might become of me. Would I simply cease to exist here, or would I disappear and go somewhere else perhaps to be judged, or would I just be sitting here in silent tedium waiting to die. Is it the routines, any routines really, that anchor my existence? Is it I think therefor I am or is it I do therefor I am?

Philosophical bullshit really , isn’t it? But I wonder sometimes not only why I do these specific things or why I have routines at all.

Dementia simplex… a play on words… maybe a play on words alluding to a viral infection a la herpes or what not. One’s loss of memory and identity… their deterioration… infectious?

I’m trying to be openminded with this today. It’s not particularly good and I had once promised I would only post things that I found to be of a certain quality. Nothing was coming to me today though and the idea of sitting in silence was painful. The idea of not sticking to the routine was incomprehensible. A distraction was needed.

I’m holding off feelings that I’m not quite ready to address. My old friend Andrew died last week and I’ve been holding off the feelings since finding out several weeks ago that his cancer treatments had been unsuccessful. I’m not really ready to feel the loss. That’s a slippery slope though as grief will abide by its own rules and when you try to stave it off it comes for you when you least expect it. I have to meet it face to face at some point soon before that happens. You know, you open the door and invite it in for a sit, before it just kicks down the door and pulls you up for a chat. You’ve most likely been there. You know that usually comes at an inconvenient time., so you less the impact by greeting it like a family member come to visit.

Andrew, I don’t know what, if anything, happens after here but if you’re nearby watching and listening, I miss you. I’m just not ready to do this.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry it was you and I’m tempted to say that I wish it were me and not you but that doesn’t quite ring true, does it? Maybe it shouldn’t have been either of us, but definitely not you. And I don’t know why scumbags seem to always get extra time but it really does seem that way. This is why I’m not ready to address this. I want to let the denial and anger come through first. That way you get your due respect and it’s not all about me and my loss.

Let’s talk later, okay?


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