Fantasies

Here I am at the keyboard with two packs of frozen vegetables on my knees listening to Alice in Chains (Lane Staley: the only rocker who well and truly HAD to die of a drug overdose? His voice is like a sea of weeping blisters covered in salt? Of all the grunge artists and heroin romantics he is one of the few who was truly suffering, not charmed by the charisma of suffering)

Have you ever fantasized without realizing it? I don't mean caught in a daydream, I'm speaking to the issue of recognition--a pattern, a method to your wish fulfillment. Well, I've been having a lot of fantasies about saving people. Stopping robbers, saving a nerd from a vicious high school beat-down, finding THEM, crushing THEM, sending THEM to dreamland before I throw 'em in jail. This isn't just about reimagining the rape with a positive outcome; my imagination has expanded. I'm the guy in the local paper who foils the bank robbery, who saves the clerk in a Circle K, the human shield for a toddler trapped in a burning building.

For a large chunk of my life, I've fantasized about death. My death, the death of those I love, melodramatic stuff. "How will I go on without them? Blah blah" It has been my way of fetishizing death, of taming it, of living it's reality on a day to day basis.

Lately, that has largely been replaced by these savior fantasies (Things don't always end in a rosy frame of mind. I might die saving the day or I might save three kids, but fail to save the fourth from the burning building). Seems there's more to this superhero thing, doesn't it? ...

Shit, I just had one right now! Another recurring one. A gunman, this time two, have stormed the gym, and it's up to me to take 'em down. Hmm, something I should expand upon.

I'll come back to that later, right now my knees have me paranoid. Ice or no ice, sitting in this chair aggravates the tendinitis, so I'm gonna lay down for a bit, maybe read a bit of Tomcat In Love.