Take a dump

Beginning to learn why everyone recommends de-stressing. …Yeah, I know the articles all said stress does a number on your body; as usual, I didn’t quite believe it – at least not in the context of my workhorse, which was bred and raised to work. I was meant to drop in my tracks, right? That’s what workhorses do. [Thanks, Dad, for THAT programming.]

Self diagnosis: irritable bowel syndrome. Trust me, it sounds nicer than it is. And it doesn’t sound very nice, does it? For the past 24 hours I’ve been reluctant to do anything outside the house because every time I bloody well fart I have to be on the toilet. Diarrhea, bloating, belching, discomfort, and a disturbing amount of mucus do not make for happy toilet times even if you’re rich enough to afford one of those Japanese toilets that sing to you while you’re taking a dump. Imagine what it’s like in a stripped down WC.

Yeah, thanks Universe! I really needed that constant physical reminder. I really needed that extra added stress of my body not running the way it should. I needed that extra worry, those extra jolts of panic. Oh, good on you, Universe! This is sarcasm, by the way…

To any fellow IBS sufferer out there, I’ve one word for you: licorice. It’s got to be real licorice, with natural ingredients. Go to a health food/whole foods place; it’s out there. Licorice is one of those natural gas easers. It will NOT stop your IBS attack, but it will allow you to belch really, really (REALLY) loudly and get out that gas that causes pain. I just sucked licorice for most of the evening, and about 10 minutes after eating a piece I burped so loudly it almost registered as supersonic (little doubt the neighbors heard it; undoubtedly they’ll think it was my brother). Just…keep eating licorice. You’ll feel better. And it’s an easy and cheap remedy for anyone to try.

Meanwhile…

Ah, yes. Here comes on a morning headache. Good Goddess, I’m a mess! In 24 hours this will all be coming to a head as I wait the last bit before my shrink appointment. Can’t plan or think too much about that. Can’t even try to think out the Dutch I need to use. I tear up, my breathing gets ragged, and I feel totally insecure and afraid. So I’ve been distracting myself. But I know full well my subconscious has continued to gnaw on my upcoming appointment, and my body issues are the product of this. I acknowledge that. I acknowledge also that I do not feel particularly stressed in my conscious mind. Distraction works. It’s painfully obvious to me, tho, that my body is fighting it. I am not dealing with the stress, I’m stuffing it down so well I’m not consciously aware of it and it’s coming out physically.

I mean…what do I do? Sit here for the next 27 hours and let myself cry and shake while I think it all through? That doesn’t sound healthy to me. But then, neither is what I’m doing healthy.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Go away, headache!

Help!

…To add to this mountain, I heard from the director. This Friday, 15:30, here at my place. That knowledge dumps a lot of adrenaline into my system; I can feel it. Went off on sound ideas for a couple of hours with my bro. Talked about organics, how to record what I wanted, sourcing ideas. I can mechanize the voice to the hilt, but in analyzing the great creepiness of my favorite stuff, I realized it’s the organics that make my skin crawl. And I want people to be afraid. Very afraid (about as afraid as I am most days). Ach! We’ll be hopping between our studio equipment and computers, layering and cutting sounds, and then compressing the hell out of everything. I’m happy to find my bro excited about the idea. If he was nonplussed, I wouldn’t feel so positive about it. But with the master producer and engineer on board, I know the sound will be great. And, hopefully, we can use much of what we create in the planned podcast.

I’m so committed to this/these stories that I’m amazing myself. My head is focused continually on the story line, the ways I could change it, the ongoing and side stories that could be written off my original work. I am ready to serialize this shit. Anyone of the three parts that make up the trilogy could have numerous sequels (so many I could really sell out and sign a contract for 20 or more sequels). It’s part of what I’m excited about: creating a perfect, unending loop. The only line indicating where to stop is when the audience stops coming to see the shows.

And whereas I feel slightly concerned over the idea of me immersing myself into this circular, horrific tale for years to come, I must admit it’s a great place to store my fear. I could literally write everything that terrifies me into this tale. This aspect is so concentrated in this work that I feel I could even do silent versions of it and still convey the terror and fear I want (great idea for some film shorts, that; keep it in mind).

…*sigh* Maybe that’s the point. It’s my dump ground. Maybe I should let myself go. Explore some of those side stories. It would keep me on point with the project overall, yet give me something to do and, well…dump into.

I’d like a new camera. The vid cam I’ve used in the past is a rinky-dink affair and cost less than 100 euro when I bought it. I’d like something a step up. Even if I’ve got to borrow it…

Hm. Time to send out feelers. Anyone own a camera I could use? Yep.

But first: write. Plan. Turn this nervous energy into something positive.

lololol! Literally, and metaphorically: take a dump.

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