Spew...

I think I'm gonna spew my coffee.  All over my keyboard, monitor, worktable, my lap, everything.  Is it possible to sympathy spew?  I don't know.  I got fat when my ex was pregnant, I grew a sympathy belly, so maybe.  Maybe I'm just sick of the current state of society...

I have a friend who won't stop drinking alcohol, and at least three friends, probably more, currently under the spell of heroin.  And when I look at the world all around, sometimes I can't really blame them.  Who wants to read about war and death and government fascism and police brutality and GMO food products and children starving while bankers count their money and killer vaccines and goddamn politics every day?  ...I've been pondering "What does a nervous breakdown feel like?"

Where is a Bodhi tree when one needs one?  ...Or have the corporate fascist bastards bulldozed them all to build another parking lot?  I'd really like to smoke some pot.  I'd like to hold a little twenty-something girl in my arms and just sleep all day.  There are a lot of things I'd like to do.  I'd like to be an Eagle, soaring high above it all, oblivious to humanity and all its suffering.  But I'm a man, not an eagle.  Not a hawk.  Not a dove.  Not a wolf, or a puma, not a donkey or a prairie dog.  And not a mouse either.  I'm part bear, because my great Grandmother was a Bear, but I'm just one man.

There's a story.  The legend of Jumping Mouse.  I tried to find a version of it that I could copy/paste here, because I don't feel like typing that much right now, but the best I could find was this: The Legend Of Jumping Mouse

Everything is falling apart.  It's not a facepalm.  It's a Flippedysquit.  And it's surely Flibbertyjibbitz.