(no subject)

I think most of my adult life has been focused on trying to identify the various things connected to or implanted within me, and then eliminating the unnecessary or unwelcome. Several definitions failed to make the cut: self as relational status; piece by piece, all mainstream labels of sexual identity; the man, and then woman label; as many layers of privilege as I can find and divest; religious/spiritual, (sub)cultural, political and national/regional identities. Some removal was easy, some more like chiseling away mineral deposits, and I'm starting to worry that much of it was/is like cutting at flesh with a sharp knife. I've often said that I don't believe in an essential self, and I still don't, but if all I have are low orbit personae, what will remain if I keep removing things external? Even if I do find something irredicible, will I have lost too much to be able to connect easily, if at all, to anyone else? From my current perspective, it seems like most, if not all, interpersonal avenues require bounding and defining by things I either have cut, or am in the process of removing. It still seems useful, if not necessary, but is it something that can't be recovered from?

very odd dream I do not understand

I dreamed I was in a friend's father's house, and there was a second floor bathroom with a stall shower that I was going to use. At first, the house was full of people (the feeling of not his family, but my friend and a handful of others who I can't name). Then, some dreamstuff happened that I couldn't remember, and I was being led back to the bathroom (on a different day?) by someone (a girl I didn't know?), and it seemed slightly untidy at first; towel on the floor kind of thing. Then, the floor seemed very, very warped, worse than rotting wood, and there were standing puddles. I remember trying to soak up the water with the towel, and was pushing it towards the baseboard when a gap between the wall and the floor became apparent. The person I was with said something like, "oh, no" in a resigned way, and I noticed that it was much bigger than I had thought, and that the wet towel fell into a hole, which didnt' seem to bother my guide.

I think, just before I woke up, I got a call from someone I knew (in dream only) who was in that same bathroom, and something weird was going on; she was starting to freak out more and more, and ended up saying "just listen" and then I could hear, louder and louder, someone breathing, not her, like they were getting closer. Then, Spodgumine (my sick kittie) woke me up.

(no subject)

It's been pointed out to me that I'm not terribly accessible, terribly clear, even when I think I'm making extraordinary efforts towards greater openness and digestibility. I should remember this. I know I've known it in the past.

I'm doing worse lately than I've done in years, probably many. It snuck up on me this time, and I still haven't worked out the whats and the whys. I'm not sure I ever will, and maybe a focus on point of origin misses the point and maybe the opportunity. In the midst of all the feelings of loss, abondonment, alienation, anger and sadness, there's this growing feeling that things are opening up.... for something, what I don't know. It's like a moment of clarity is coming, but I'm not sure I want it, and am maybe afraid of what might become clear. I dont' want to believe knowledge can be damaging in and of itself, but I'm afraid maybe it can, maybe it will.

I feel like I'm losing my ability to interact with the world through following ideas, impulses, through to what seems like their logical conclusions. I seem to move further and further from common experience, though that could just be my perception. It makes even the simplest kind of communication almost impossible, or so hollow and empty of meaning as to be cotton candy nourishment, a shape and a form containing nothing.

I worry that this is what crazy might start out looking like. The camera effect in which what's in center frame remains centered, but everything else suddenly recedes: that's what it feels like. The things I have grown to count on seem out of reach but still present, more sisyphean than I can bear easily. I'm missing something, somewhere, some how, but I don't know what and I don't know how to get it back, much less get better.