rest in peace.
I really feel for you.
once upon a time I read ‘Narcopolis’ by Jeet Thayil. The circumstances in which I came about doing so were, well, unique. Listen to the audiobook, it’s really awesome.
And now, a short story that may or may not have been true. idon’tfuckingknow
the insomniac had to be in motion, like something in the aether possessed him to move.
to a place called ‘home’, and this wasn’t it.
‘papa was a rolling stone / wherever he laid his hat was home…’
He had his hat on outside, mostly. He was kinda old school like that, growing up among polite folk.
He still wore hoodies, though. bathing ape was a personal favorite.
alkaloids were his bread and butter.
it came natural-like, like breathing. Attempting to stop it was like attempting to capture all of the world’s atmosphere in a single human-constructed space. You could try, but it would take you a pretty fucking long time.
So, he accumulated energy by simply existing.
Tonight, however, he could not rest.
He accepted the world as it was, and tried to make it better with each going day.
He felt a vast abundance of energy, like a concentrated wave of energy emanating from a star going supernova. He could no longer accumulate any more. All the proper channels were open, he had God’s blessing now. Nothing could stop him, and the world in general, from what would happen next. Not even himself.
He went on WordPress and began to write. But wait, was this even a person doing this?
The nano-servos in the host’s body whirred at frequencies inaudible to the human ear. Mingled with the vodka & ayahuasca already in his system, his blood pH started to change.
The rest was history.
outside, the ghosts that awaited him sat in the government issue Chevy Impala, playing a networked video game on their Nintendo 3DS XL. The game? Super Smash Bros 3DS. The occasion? The insomniac launched a worldwide online fighting game tournament that very morning.