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She’s been up for three days again now. And, once again, she has clearly crossed the invisible line again into those dark realms of pure pounding psychosis.I don’t know why it excites me so, but it does…..Up to a point anyway.When she’s consumed with that heart-pounding, eye-popping fear and adrenaline rushing paranoia of her self-induced paranormal insanity, I can instinctively smell it, the hormonal stench of a frightened helpless dying alien animal exuding from her.And it turns the predator in me on like a light. And that’s when I just had to leap on her and devour her and fuck her again and again today.I got her pinned down and put it to her long and hard and good a couple of times… and it WAS so good. Good like unanesthetized screaming bullet-wound surgery, beautiful and raw and essencial like a tiger leaping on a gazelle, like a vampire seducing a victem, like a junkie shooting a mainline speedball, so crucial and intoxicating and real, it took me right to the edge, that forbidden zone between life and death… so wrong it’s right. So bad it’s good. So good and necessary and true it has got to be very very bad…But the real down side is that now the insanity don’t stop, won’t stop, can’t stop, and now its too fucking late…Now she’s crossed over again, and now its been getting real real ugly again.For the last hour, since she finished smoking the last crack rock that left her ears ringing to where she held her hands over them, eyes darting around like terrified mice while I fucked her into a daze… since then she’s just been sitting there on the floor, staring at her own crumbling demented image in the mirror, peering openmouthed into the bottomless hell of her own eyes, deep deranged angry pools where raging demons live… open portals where the crazed angry spirits come pouring out into our world again now.Spirits with ugly faces and ugly names like Self Pity, Self Hate, Self Obsession, Narcissism and, ultimately… Self-Destruction.I’ve seen them all my life and I know ‘em quite well. I watched them kill my whole fucking family off before I was old enough to know I was alive…Ugly spirits of an ugly ego sickness, running amok and opening unseen gates of trauma and terror and hate in my own battered psyche.And I know that’s why I’m here today…And I can feel it again now, the impending danger, crackling between us again, like some invisable high-voltage deadly serpant, even as I scrunch up my forehead and fight to resist the blood-pounding, compelling urge to just walk over to where she sits tweeking like an over-wound plastic toy, and slap her so hard it would dislodge her teeth from her deranged fucking cranium.But I do resist, knowing full well that, though my furious blows may dislodge her head itself from her body, nothing on a brutal physical plane of rage could ever banish those invisible hourdes of malivant entities posessing her now. I know my own insanity and violence would only make it all worse.But now all the warning signs and symptoms of our common soul sickness are present again, inaudable bells and sirens freaking out wildly behind my eyes… and now I know we are slowly, silently suiting up again for war…But today I also know from past skirmishes that no battles in this war are ever won with an angry headlong assault. That’s just what those bottom feeding spirit parasites are hoping for.So today I’m gonna sit here and play it cool this time. Cool as a fucking cat, the way I’m supposed to..Cuz I’ve seen this old horror movie before, been watching it all my fucking life. And the last time I forgot it’s just a movie and lost my shit and lost my temper on her, I almost screwed the game up for us both.Because last time her tormenter spirits goaded me into anger, my ensuing knee-jerk slap in her face had only served to push her right over the edge into her own raging furious violent frenzy of retaliation and mindless vengeance that almost got us both killed or locked up.So this time I’m not falling into that fucking trap again.If she wants to act sarcastic, cold, evil and mean, let her…Despite all evidence to the contrary, I know it’s not even her stirring up all this shit anyway.Einstein said it: Reality is an illusion, albiet a persistant one.So today’s only battle plan is to keep my cool and kill em all off with an overdose of kindness, patience, compassion…Love.After all, isn’t she just a very sick person, just like me and you and all the rest of the poor demented chatterung monkies hopping around the world calling themselves the fucking spearhead of evolution?Today I will remember that Narcisa is not my enemy.Today I will remember that my only enemies are my own trauma-fed memories and phantoms and rattling skeleton bones of an unbearable past that doesn’t even exist now today, except in the churning halls of everpresent psychic illusion.Today I am free, and today Narcisa is simply a friend in need of a firm and loving hand. That’s all this is about. Remember….

It really helps to learn from past mistakes and old battles lost, to know just why you lost and how and where exactly you fucked up. So as not to repeat the same fucking mistake and end up in the same violent, gut wrenching swirling writhing snake pit you fell into before.Again and again and again…Because you can’t ever get out of that pit, not really, not until you’ve learned whatever you went in to learn about the nature of those scary hissing, poisonous vipers in the first place.The most you can ever do otherwise, is just change places in the snake pit. Swap the rattlesnakes for Cobras, Black Mambas for some other poisonous deadly motherfucker. But you’re still there in the same fucking pit. Until you lift your thick fucking skull right the fuck outa there.Then you finally can really climb out and up to wherever’s next in the game…It helps me now to see that there really are all these multi-colored psychedelic karmic trauma triggers laid out all over the fields of this crazy, compelling relationship, like land mines just waiting for the unweary soldier to trample on in a hasty, fear-fueled rush to bloody battle, or a yelping yellow piss trail of cowardly retreat.The main boobie trap here today for my consideration and avoidence is the very clear fact that, whenever Narcisa smokes herself into this kind of loathsome altered state, she seems to have perfectlly and horribly opened up some nasty looking dimentional door that replicates and perfectly chanels the exact same demented energy of my own insane, drunken, angry, unstable, raging, violent, abusive mother at her very very worst.Childhood trauma flashback trigger crack attack..Perfect!!!That’s something to know. And it’s another psychic boobie trap to be neatly sidesteped today.Just another karmic trial, another test to pass….So today I just sat there and ignored her while she hissed and spat and cursed at me, knowing full fucking well that this was simply another trap, or, better stated, a lesson….And, while these tests may seem real harsh and even brutal at times, they’re never random or unfair.How could thry be? When you begin to have a basic understanding of the dynamic metaphysical laws that neatly govern the workings of the universe, you begin to know that all personal relationships are nothing more than lessons to be learned - trials and purifications for the mind and soul..And then, in the middle of a raging psychadelic battle to the death, you suddenly remember that all these trials and purifications are always applied to each one fairly, never randomly or injustly, and in perfect acordence with one’s own individual ability and need to fully experience and benifit from that exact test.Cuz it’s a spiritual axiom that no burden too heavy to carry is ever placed on anyone’s shoulders.. So much for the dubious comfort of the pathetic old innocent victim game I used to play so well.So, If Narcisa is my burden and my curriculum today, I mean to carry her with a big old shit-eating grin, goddammit, without complaint or recrimination..That’s the mission today.Cuz God knows I sure ain’t no bleeding Jesus saint walking on fucking water, so I fugure that’s the very least I can do here for us both…But still there are limits to be observed and fine tuned…So after sitting for two hours straight watching her cook her brains and babble incoherantly to herself, I’d really had enough.

I have somehow, through trial and error all along the dangerous gut-wrenching course of life with Narcisa, begun to learn to know and respect my own limits… And believe me, for a wild animal, just like Narcisa that I too was raised to be, that’s a very good thing.So I told her I was going to go to the beach.It was a beautiful hot summer day. Of course she told me she wanted to go too. And of course, a half hour later while I sat waiting still, she told me to just wait a little while more..Yeh right, just wait a little while more, while she smokes some more crack and stares herself down in the mirror, looking for the miniature marks in her face where the invisible conspirators have been inserting tiny machinery into her bloodstream to affect her brain waves so they can tune in and control her by remote frequency command from distant evil stars…She began to explain how insects are really tiny robots, that mosquitos and flies and such are all these little robot helicopters with sophisticated alien homing devices, and they were all around her now, so she just had to wait a little while longer and smoke some more crack to adjust to their vibrational frequency and crack the code they’re using so she could get up and come with me to the beach. Bla bla bla…No thanks.Elmer Fudd says: “cwackheads is the cwaziest people!”She got very angry and indignant when I told her I didn’t want to wait for all that shit, that I was just going to go and have a swim and come back later.That did it.I guess that just kicked her right in the old “daddy abandoned me” bone.Ouch!She started insulting me and calling me evil and selfish and ugly and stupid and ignorant and hypocritical, acusing me of being on THEIR side, conspiring with all the tiny mutant alien miniature helicopter pilots and shit, poor thing…But I knows my boundaries, baby!So finally, mostly to avoid slipping up and cuffing her upside the ear, I just got up and walked away, leaving her there talking to herself in the mirror. I really didn’t want to argue. I just wanted to go to the fucking beach. A matter of psychic survival.What can you do?So I did what I usually do, I got the fuck out of there and went to the beach alone.Fifteen minutes later I pulled the bike up on the big rock at Leme and went right down into the water. I dived under the first wave and came up just in time to catch the next one.And I rode that watery momentum, crazy raging holy water bubbling and crashing all around me, feeling good, feeling the sun and the air cleansing every cell of my corrupt old being as I tumbled around in the swirling foam, coming up for air, smiling, laughing free, feeling the raw energy of life life life all around me…And right then it was all so clear and good and right again. And I was reminded again why I’ve always instinctively come right here to these holy healing waves whenever it seemes like the walls are gonna close in on me and Narcisa.It’s like a big fucking washing machine for the soul.And as I rode ‘em in, wave after wave, I vaguely wished that she could be there enjoying the moment with me, the sun and waves and water and air… Life on earth.I wished she was there again laughing and moving and living there beside me, the way she used to be… instead of holed up in a dark corner arguing with her possesive old demons and phantoms who have enslaved her body and mind and soul so completely now that she doesn’t even know they’re there anymore because now they are her and she is them and that is just fucking that today..Until she dies from it or has some big ephiphany and finally wakes up from the long terrible mutant nightmare that she calls life on Earth today….Meanwhile I just keep hanging around, riding the polluted crazy wavelengths of life on planet Earth, enjoying this hysterical, passionate wild ride as best I can as I try try try to make some kinda sense of it all.Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008. All Rights Reserved.NOTIFIÇAO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção - registrados na Biblioteca Nacional como ficção com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor, Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são interamente ficticios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência.