I think that ghost jumped into me (see previous post titled Haunted House), you know, that spirit, that essence of that perfumed ghost that I lived with for a few days. I haven't been able to shake this cloud in my head. I feel "ghosted," as in having a ghost in my space. I think it's that matronly lady with the pearls and big flowing gown. She followed me home.
I have been walking around a bit bleary-eyed, like I'm sharing my head-space and body-space with another spirit. Weird. That never happened before. It's bit crowed here and I feel like I've lost of bit of control over my own being. Strange.
I have been walking around a bit bleary-eyed, like I'm sharing my head-space and body-space with another spirit. Weird. That never happened before. It's bit crowed here and I feel like I've lost of bit of control over my own being. Strange.
The coffee helps a bit, but I do feel a bit of a mojo-deficit, my mojo isn't totally depleted, but it is down a few quarts. I'm like an old, sputtering car leaking oil, back-firing and sending smoke into the atmosphere.
So, I am sort of fighting this ghost. Trying to shake her. Like I said, the coffee helps, I'm getting a bit of clarity this a.m. Right now listening to Fiona Apple's "Fetch the Bolt Cutters" (2020), every song is like a hit of smelling salts, bringing me back. Fiona's fire and creativity is a balm to my original essence. Slowly, I am emerging from the depths of a great ocean. I am hoping by the end of the record I'll be back. But, you know, who really knows? Life is weird.
