BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

You were expecting Elvis?

Bleh ... I seem to have gotten myself sick somehow ... strange bug, though ... started out as a little pain in my left jaw joint, then started swelling in my neck. Now I feel like I have the flu, but with no throat pain, no sinus stuff, nothing but this swelling on the left side of my neck. Got this "home medical guide" thing that suggests it's an infection of the lymph nodes in my neck and will go away in two weeks or so ... screw that ... I'm going in to the doctor tomorrow and getting some damn antibiotics!

Despite feeling like shit (I'm tired, achy, semi-dizzy, and wanting to do nothing more taxing than laying down), we went to the Bears game today. The Wife got my tickets for my birthday. Fortunately, the weather cooperated, and it was sunny and "warm" (it was too hot for jackets or sweaters) almost all game ... but then right at the end of the game it started raining ... by the time we were over where the busses pick up it was TORENTIALLY raining, and we were about 100 people back in the line for the 146. We decided to duck into the Field Museum and have a cup of coffee down at the McDonalds there until the storm blew over (thank god for family membership deals!). We had left The Girls with my mom ... and everybody "played nice", so by the time we got back up there nobody was sulky. Very good. Heck, the little one even took a nap!

Anyway, wrote this Saturday. I feel like shit, my life is shit, my finances are worse than shit, but, hey, I can still write poetry! Not that ANYBODY is intereted in reading it. Blah, blah, blah ... sure hope I win the Lottery. Pretty much fucked if I don't.

                    THIS DEPTH, THIS DESCENDING

                    the haze encloses
                    and nothing seems real
                    we lose all focus
                    all ability to do
                    spun through maelstroms
                    of anguish, ache, and doubt
                    we find no landmarks
                    no way to define "here"

                    too much confusion
                    too many conflicts
                    everything blurs
                    indistinct in passage
                    we can not filter
                    the streaming time
                    we can not sort
                    the elements of day

                    we try to structure
                    the options and stance
                    but environments shift here
                    and drive us insane
                    strange sleep enfolds us
                    dragging us down
                    we struggle against this
                    and once again lose

                    deep in this illness
                    we find no routes out
                    we are tainted and poisoned
                    broken and beat
                    crawling through hours
                    of hideous pain
                    reaching for something
                    beyond this dull plane

                    and yet we fear
                    we'll never win
                    that this game runs
                    forever to our death
                    counting up points
                    on opposition's board
                    for every discomfort
                    every terror, every tear

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

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