There are days when I can swallow whole horizons of darkness and belch laughing gas. Hell, there are days when I can gobble down galaxies of gloom, blackholes stuffed with bile-filled barnacles, and shit out baby panda bears.
Yesterday was not one of them.
Yesterday the dark and heavies came for me. They sat on my chest and would not get off. I wished they would at least mock me, so I could muster the gusto to have at ’em, but I was not so lucky. They just came and sat on me. Crushed me.
Not even my sunshine, my only sunshine, could make me happy, my skies were too grey.
Although it would not have cheered me much, I would not have been bothered to see Christopher Robin kicking Winnie the Pooh ,
or to watch Cookie Monster choking on a chocolate chippy
I didn’t envy my dogs their ability to sleep 23 hours a day through the winter rains; I resented them for it.
I wasn’t tired of pushing the wondrous pearls of my imagination up the impossibly steep hills littered with legions of swine who mock my futile efforts; I just didn’t care. Let them roll down to the bottom. Let them stay there, at the bottom, in the Valley of the Damned and the Doomed.
Maybe, one day , they’ll be discovered, along with the corpses of my worthless self and my fellow Sisyphusians, by some clever anthropologist, who will exclaim that he has found evidence of the fabled land of FUNarchia and the happy souls who inhabited it, only to be mocked and ridiculed by the Skeptics Society. Fuck him! Serves him right. Fool. There are no wizards in this world. The only thing at the end of the Yellow Brick Road is an overflowing outhouse.
But today the sun is shining and I owe a happy face to the one I love, so I shall not disappoint the girl.