The Anti-Blog 2

I’ve been hit. Help.

You ever get a wave of involuntary memory, like a Proust orgasm and you suddenly feel very distant from your memories, like they are all something explicitly in the past; and yet they are also right in front of your lived-in body, moment to moment on the cusp of revelation; and all the feeling is suddenly overwhelming you and falling on top of you; and you have no choice but to feel the memory as if it were this infinite moment where the past collides into the present – where all time is laid bare like sushi on a japanese woman – and the unfeeling lurid tongues of men in suits runs across your body and you don’t know what the feeling is supposed to evoke; whether it’s some meaningless trite sensation of thereness; or if its an uncomfortable violation of yourself; that moment forever lost now replaying violently on the theater of your schull. Endlessly repeating some tangential sensation of oneness and care and hope.

Yeah, me neither.

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