Storm Clouds

I’ve had a dreadful night – I slept only fitfully amidst a scrambled bed of torment and a flood of savage & brutal half-dreams. This was due partly to the oppressively boiling night heat and partly, I’m sure, to my current state of mind. I am in a torment of suffering right now – my life is like a stagnant pool of despair; I feel as if I am being suffocated by my own indecision and lethargy. I am losing any sense of direction.

Strangely, I have been dreaming of the word equilibrium. I’m not sure what – if anything – this signifies, but my guess is that my subconscious self is screaming for such a state to be reached. Presumably I am yearning for this merry-go-round of hopelessness & elation to be over; I am allowing myself to be pitched-poled into some strange stormy seas where the peaks and troughs threaten to engulf me. Frankly, I am exhausted. Equilibrium sounds exactly what I need right now.

My blog is being visited by a mystery caller. Although I have a core of regular readers, most of whom I recognize, I also get dozens of hits from random people across the globe who seem to wash up at my site from a variety of bizarre and haphazard sources. However, during the past few days I have noticed a new visitor who keeps dipping his or her head into my madcap world of news, events, rants, fears & lies. Whoever it is, access is being gained from an institution with the enchanting and picturesque name of ‘Marquette University’ situated in the city of Milwaukee in the state of Wisconsin (and yes, my Icelandic friend, Milwaukee is a city – I checked). This new visitor is more than welcome, of course, but I am bewildered that someone whom presumably I have never met should wish to peek quite so often into the secrets of my crazy mind. I hope that whoever it is doesn't go mad too.

Well, I am starting a new day feeling sluggish and hopeless. A spot of meditation is called for, I think, and then I can stride out into the day with re-strengthened armour and a new determination & valiance (I’m not sure that’s a real word, but it seems right to me).

It was suggested to me yesterday that my pitiful life could be made more exciting by being kidnapped by a Viking warrior. Notwithstanding that Viking warriors are difficult to find in sleepy old Hockley, I have to say that I am not daunted by such a prospect – I promised some time ago to tell you about the time my step-father sold me to white slavers to pay off his gambling debts (and one day I will), so let me assure you that I can handle anything. Oh yes.