It parted the skin and the fat underneath as it went on. Tiny marbles of blood were forming on the sides much like tears, soon to be sponged off by the assistant and the source carbonated for good. There was no turning back now…

The synapses that held those past days in place were severed and the images were slowly decomposing into fragments of a puzzle soon to be lost into a whirlwind of pixels. The bricks of creation gathered again creating a pile into a corner of the scarcely illuminated memory lane. Indistinguishable. It gave space to anything that could by chance throw itself at the present existence. Acres to build on and no fancy neighborhoods to impose hard to accept architectural rules. However, experience remained as a constant reminder that things have to evolve and that complex constructs needed to be checked at every level long before being presented with the end-product. Experience was a good thing overall but also induced a certain degree of fatigue that made everything less joyful and increased expectancy. No win without sacrifice.

“Do you remember the film? The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind ?”
“You realize that is fiction…”
“Yeah, but couldn’t help but wonder…”

It left a feeling of sorts that one knew to avoid or to explore. It wasn’t associated with something. Not anymore. Like a gut feeling that was telling you that something was on or off. Fear of failing was gone. Comparisons forgotten. After a very long time, anything became possible once again and that, in the very same place, only couple of days after having the complete opposite sentiment. The lack of money didn’t bother. Work starts on Monday.  There is still a bunch of cans in the fridge and some frozen bread. It’s summer. The sun is offering loving caresses to the dark green Ficus in the corner and Steve looks at me with wondering eyes as if asking what’s the bother. I should take him outside for a walk. I’ll do that.

“What’s with the book, any good?”
“It’s crazy! About a psych’s way into med school.”
“That’s to be expected with shrinks”

It was to be expected if you chose psychiatry for residency. I wrote my thesis in psychiatry but I found the whole experience so demented and reality altering that in the end I went for a radically different field. I kept some shrink-ness in me because you can never completely detach yourself after starting to latch on the nipple of our great father Freud, but plunged directly into plumber works and never let go of the sewers since. I made a profession on exploring and keeping those clean. But every now and then it goes back to psychiatry even in the sewers and not because of foul colored urine if you know what I mean. It’s always more or less a matter of elevation.

“And the sad songs?”
“They’re not all sad.”
“So? Tell me…”
“It’s what is keeping me alive and sane…”
“Oh…but I thought…”
“Yeah…”

Perfection is far from being a concrete abstract. It made me suffer greatly at times. When my house was not like I wished, when I did not have a proper bed and slept on a sofa, when the Christmas tree started being shorter and myself taller, when mom worked nights and was often irritated, when dad did not understand and guarded his strict views on everything, when all that I had from grandma was a recording of her telling me to find a fine girl and marry her. I was quite the spoiled kid at times if I were to think about it but in the long term the negatives compensated it. I even got lucky a few times but fucked it up as every young man should on the way to becoming a fine gentleman. Then I ran away to the far side of the continent and started making a life out there. I still am…