Not all souls are endless.

 Nightmare brains - for a while there I thought I lost you. The ooosh and the ahhhgh of the game was getting to my head, I was stuck inside the waterfall of penambula soup. Nothing 

primordial though some may say I was opting for my own gallantry in a suede shoe eligaic. Carnage to ensue on February 9th read the headline. No one willing to see the truth for 

the muddiness of their own pride. PAIN read backward is NIAP which could stand for anything. Narrowing down the chaos seems to be the first order of duty. Where am I> What do I know for 

sure> dir. But I know very little about what I know. Examined too deeply and anything turns to insubstantial gas in one's stomach. Hook me up, I'm leaking useable methane, possibly

farting out myself, hence far more valuable for the loss of it. Might as well drive a car with it. Nonsense hotdogs sitting on the lawn on a fine Americana day. I was hoping for some

kind of rehabilitation but got more of the same intense fathomless garbage. Conked in my head with the boredom of it all. Thought I could render boredom obsolete until I met you and 

everything in your ego railed against my simple sense of management. This time I wished to smash a huge log, not only through the door, but through the whole wall, with me in a demolition

suit and music telling the kids what to do, Steve looking on in total awe. Too mad for you now, am I then? Well am I, And delivering a whole teaching on the bullhorn while announcments

in thai tell the kids not to move. You've pushed me too far, don't you know. Started off real generous and then tried to juice me for all I had. William Tell would have shot you in 

each nipple and told you to go home with peace in your heart till you can treat people in a more observant way. The backache and the glory was nothing when held against the plans I had

and you dashed them all anyway! So there I was with nothing but backache and a head full of morose gas. Congealed inside of me was the residue of the unknown. Built up there like dark 

matter until my heart decided it was going to do something different to its original programing and the people on-board all launched their boats for the jetty. I'm just letting off steam

there Michael Niker, nothing to trouble yourself over. A foxes' breakfast can last a whole afternoon, but my sense of gratitude can barely last 5 minutes. What with everything being about

the wealth aspect of things, and mothers being arguing figures like witches in the wind flying broomsticks to absurdity. Contrite, wholesome, I suppose there was some of that but not 

much in the end. Mostly it was all al sharpton and no juice. I thought often of the funeral of Auntie Jenny; the graveyards we wandered into on lugubrious Sunday mornings. Always a loss. 

Always something to lose. When I look back and I see that no one was sharing those memories with me I get jealous and angry at them for having somethings. The juice leaks out, goes rancid. 

Running on rancid juice and the stale memories of the past, and then no one wants to consume' with me. Oxford has its benefits I suppose. That was the saying around here. Stuffy and 

consequential I march into places I barely know with a head full of questions and no answers to pin on them. Who said I can't go anywhere? My mother replies? I did. I say. I did. I don't 

want to go anywhere until my health returns I say. Oh well then you're your own worst enemy she says. I know I am I say. Maybe you can be my second worst enemy. So it is that I wake up 

with a t-shirt full of cum because I wiped it last night. Didn't have the impetus to get outta bed and clean myself up after I watched 4 lesbians going at it on pornhub. This was after

unceremoniously losing 1300 rand again. The accounts have really racked up. I'm into about 5000 rand in losses here. I don't know why I do it, but then I just jump on and start masturbating. 

I blame God for being angry at me all the time, and not giving me any juice to work off. Fact is I need some people around me.  Memories are miscreants. They just chip at my brain like 

little wood ants and leave nothing but dust and staleness. I am looking for the promise of something, and no more empty words. I am looking for something that can keep me afloat and help 

me move. That girl I had, I don't even want to talk about her here because she kept me pegged down like a sailing boat that wanted to go places but never could. And I don't blame her

but there was a lot better out there. For instance, at the Apple A Day she'd say, we're not talking to those people. I had caught a glimpse of them already. An eyeful more like. It was

gorgeous what I saw. Skin like soft caramel. None of this hardness. None of this mad empty broken-headedness. No, it was something delicious that you can really bite into. I feel like 

filing for divorce, even though I'm not married. But the insecurity was too much for me to face. I kept paying up and whenever I said something, she didn't offer sympathy. It was always

"Well you don't want to pay, that's fine." The belief she was running off was that she was running my life! I want to clean things up; get things going again. It would be a miracle, like 

some wise uncle within me cleaning up a rusted old engine lying in the garage that everyone had condemned to death. Then going around the whole of Thailand and South East Asia on such a 

thing and seeing aeverything there is to see. None of this bone-dry nonesense I was forced to consume. None of this obeissance and meandering tiredness. No, I can do so much better. 

The bracings on my back need to be there for this time. The bracings on my legs and the rest of my body too. Too much instability in the body. Then once the body's right, I can start 

working on a plan to get things moving again. Preferably something better than what I had. Preferably I'll be doing something that people actually demand, and not something that's 

replaceable. Teachers are far too replaceable. They can wash up any time from any part of the world; and not necessarily even English speaking. So till then I'm a dead man walking. 

Till then I should be working on something and framing it as an investment. I've just lost 5000 rand for crying out loud! No more gaddamn investing. No more fritting and fussing over things

that don't bring in the Johnny Cash. I will write too. And I will go to the beach when I can. I will work through that whole Shambala book that's so weird to read. I will think of pleasant

possibilities and paint them so that the future become touchable. I will not be constricted anymore. I will seek out free minds and open seas. I will unchain the winds within me and let 

them flow where they have to, not get stuck in me in ways that are always doleful and predictable. I will relax more and spend more time letting the juices amass themselves. The worst 

investment I ever made was in a girl called Aiya. When will SHE repent? When will she admit that she's taken too much and that she needs to learn something instead of lecturing me 

nonstop and counting me as a dead loss, and complaining about me? When will she realize that there are plenty of good-looking, better behaved Thai women out there, many of them christians? 

I suppose I was underestimating God's ability to bring forth a wife for me. And for that I ask your forgiveness Lord. I ask that you will help me to move forward with clarity, health, 

wisdom, purpose and power, and that it will be as clear as one of those Icelandic lakes. Nothing has to be dirty anymore, nothing has to be unquestionable. Only my lack of faith has ended 

me up here. I can see my way toward that understanding. It's not easy, God knows it's not. He was here too. I just don't want to go back into a mess. Into something I can't change or help.