Steve - Is Underwater

It feels like caffeine is the only thing keeping me alive lately. Like it's a thin shell I'm walking on, when below is deep dark and icy cold. I've been sleeping from 9AM 'til 5PM, and woken up feeling like I don't deserve it. Like I'm worthless, a rotten sack full of corroded lead. Getting out of bed is a struggle of will.

I don't know, maybe my presentation took more out of me than I realised. That's when this latest bit started. I mean, I've not been right since around the 23rd of December last year, but since last Wednesday things have been different. I've not wanted to get up, not for anything, and everything after that seems an effort. Caffeine is the only thing that is keeping me able to focus and feel okay.

I've got a new project. It was very sudden, really. We've had the brief for our Live Writing module for a while but I've not really had any clear ideas. Even the idea for this isn't clear in my head yet, but you saw some of the results of it in my last blog. The numbers on my body are starting to fade now. But they're not fading really. They're going somewhere, I just don't know where. Bits flaking off into the air, down the plughole with the water, rubbing off on my skin, on other people's skin, all those places. And that's part of the point. Entropy, always increasing regardless of what I want.

The number itself? It's the number of hours left until five minutes and two seconds past midnight on June 16th, 2060. I've decided that's when I'm going to die, and I'm counting down to then. I'm trying to remain mindful of that fact, rather than just making it a habit. I'm writing the numbers down frequently, and taking photographs of these writings. This, too, is an aspect I'd like to further explore.

I'm not sure what I'll do with this plethora of photos, but I'm sure I'll think of something.

Here are some things I've been writing lately:

The atomic bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima have been playing on my mind lately.
I don't know, I can't get them out of my head. The destruction was so complete... the loss of life.

Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius,

will be instantly sublimated.

But if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat,

you might survive.

Permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. Oh,

but if you do go gas there's nothing you can do,

if the air that was once you,

is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules,

of the enemy's former body.

Big kid tested, motherfucker approved.

~21st Century Pop Song, by Hymie's Basement

And another:

Another thing that's been on my mind lately, along with Atomic Bombs, has been my physical body. It's becoming clear that all of these thoughts (which are starting to fuck with my head now, too much for too long) are as a result of the Hymie's Basement album, here are some lyrics from it:

Most men resent their left hand;

The bony knuckles, the second rate super hero thumb,

so broad and masculine,

overshadowed, and rendered sedentary by its more active opposite companion.

But I've got my mother's hands, and...

Aren't babies born with creases in their palms,

way before you'd think the hand's most frequent movements been established?

Have humans evolved to be, born to hold,

hammers, and swords?

In the years to come, will we see the emergence,

of a strong computer key finger?

In the years to come, will we see,

a flattened, mousepad palm?

The limitations and intentions of my body are coming into razor sharp focus, like the world has been cut and the colours are leaking out in purest form.

I can hold a knife easily enough, and bring to bear the full (though still relatively minor) strength of my arm against something. I can run more efficiently over long distances than I can sprint over short distances. I can walk forwards easily, and I can fix my eyes on one spot in front of me.

I can't lie down on my side without my arm and shoulder being crushed beneath me. I'm too tall for most people to hold me as completely as I'd like. I can't see keenly to the side or behind me. My hands are too shaky for me to draw straight lines. My bones stop me from being as comfortable as I wish I was for those I care about. I can't change the colour of my eyes or hair. I can't express what I'm really feeling with my face, where I really feel things. I can't reproduce certain sounds with my mouth. I can't remember and re-experience smells or tastes. I can't hallucinate at will. I can't taste deliciousness without wanting to swallow. A lot of things, I have to destroy before I can consume or fully appreciate them. I can't stop breathing indefinitely, nor can I stop my heart beating, and for those reasons I can never stop moving for longer than a few minutes and live to tell the tale. Things will always distract me from what I wish to immerse myself in. I can't stop sleeping and expect not to suffer from it. I can't control my death, when or how it will happen, nor can I know either of those things.

To finish, a Morbid Fact Du Jour:

Jumbo, "the largest elephant in the world" and one of P.T. Barnum's main attractions, was killed when he was struck by a train while loading up to travel to the next city. It was said that Jumbo turned back onto the track in order to push his little dwarf elephant friend, Tom Thumb, safely off the tracks. He saved his little friend but he sacrificed himself.