Brain Fog
I’ve started my exercise come back, after a year &
half of drinking to excess & sitting on my fat arse. Day 4, like day 3:
brain fog. Apparently the brain re-maps & the brain fog is expected. Of
course I get my information secondhand from artists, so yunno I guess a grain
of salt? What do I know of the brain, I’m melonhead & a poet, schooled in
metaphysics & all that classical gas. I’ve been napping a lot since this
started. I don’t know if that feels like I’m wasting the living years by
sleeping. What drivel does a permed Jon Bon Jovi cough? “Stay awake while I’m
alive & sleep when I’m dead.” Some might say, in fact I might say, one
would be wise not the follow the advice of hair metal pop, but I had some
Lithuanian housemates once, who drank bottles of vodka each night. They were
living in the last 80s revisited. I guess they saw wisdom in Vidal Sassoon?
Anyway, I digress, which is quite pleasant I must say. When I commence an
exercise comeback, I’m put in mind of Elvis’ Comeback Special, looking sexy,
wild & trim. A long way from his elementary school singing competition,
where he sang the song about a boy & his dog “Ol Yeller.” I do like songs
about animals. I remember Dad, who wasn’t much for popular music like Old King,
Neil Young’s song about his dog. The other thing I forgot to mention is that
the psych meds I take make people more sedentary. So it’s a battle. Max Sometimes & myself text each to say if one of us is exercising, to encourage one another. I think the
main thing is to keep one’s sense of humour. A pen pal told me not to take life
so seriously, which is all good & well if you have a partner & a
community around you. There’s plenty of opportunity to bitch & moan. But
solo, it’s just you & so it’s hard to banter with yourself, hard to
generate laughs, hard to be silly. Hard, that’s what she said. Anyway, enough
crudity. The blackbird just appeared with his great running style. He cheers me
up. & I’ll have you know that I went out with a mate the other evening
& we were dumb kunts & pissed ourselves laughing. So yunno, maybe the
coffee worked. I feel alright. It’s good to write. A beautiful blue sky today
with only a few billowing pillows of white. Dinner in the oven. As the old
Christmas carol goes: good tidings of comfort & joy.
Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.
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