When I turn on this desk lamp I feel like

When I turn on this desk lamp I feel like strangling my daughter's puppy. I want to see how slowly I can apply the pressure around its neck to get the most out of its struggling

.I bought the lamp at the estate sale of the late Aleksy Abbadonski.Rather than lighting up things it casts a shadow when I turn it on.My asphyxiation fantasies are one of a litany

of endurance strategies I deploy against the crushing ordinariness of daily life. Some of them I cribbed from behind the damask wallpaper of a house I visit in my dreams, where

in black crayon and primitive child-like scratchings it tells me I should keep a stiff upper lip and look on the bright side. My goth dreams always give cheerful self-help advice.

Of course, it's rather petulant to listen to. Instead of self-help, it would be better if my dreams gave me some me-help. I don't think my dreams really need the help themselves.

On the other hand,as someone who needed me-help,I could not very well evaluate my dreams in terms of self help. Oh. I'm reading your body language. Am I overanalyzing myself again?

I asked, unaccustomed to thinking about what I was doing in the moment. I had just picked up this book on zen an uncle had given me, and had finally taken a bath to release myself

from the stench that surrounded me from not bathing for a month. A nice bath, a book, light some scented candles & drink some champagne & I'd feel better. I closed my eyes & fell

while reaching for the soap. Those little non-slip decals did little to keep me from flailing all around wildly. Finally my forehead became one with the tub. Everything went dark.