THE INTOXICATED SOUL

This is what the intoxicated soul does:intoxicated-soul-2

It daydreams and gets stuck at various points of the daydream because it can’t stop picturing what the people in the daydream are wearing, down to the minutest detail – buttons, sequins, fabric – things like that. Socks. Toenail polish.

The intoxicated soul howls with grief after the death of its dog – a dog to which it had no love to give, just a biscuit at first, then all of its heart.

And if the intoxicated soul stands in front of a portrait of the man who can handle a lot of adulation, then he will feel better. Lo! he will feel good. He will want to tell the man who can handle a lot of adulation something confidential and disgusting. He will want to spy for him, he will want to turn over to him everything he has heard about enemy missiles, about enemy cyber attacks, about enemy wiretapping, about enemy nuclear weapons.  He will want to tell him of the importance of finding a new enemy before squashing the old. Don’t wait, he will say.

If the intoxicated soul spies for the man who can handle a lot of adulation, he will say that he spies because he is a true believer, not because he gets paid. He will say that no amount of money could shake his belief in the man who can handle a lot of adulation.

Craving to be obsequious, the intoxicated soul will ask the man who can handle a lot of adulation what he thinks of Macbeth by William Shakespeare.

“Overrated.”

“I knew you’d say that.  Pirates of Penzance?”

“Choked me up.”

“Choked you what?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, yes. Up. …….Mexico?”

“Corrupt. Can’t attract the best into government. Drug dealers. Crime. Laziness. This country was lucky to get me.”

What about Coronado Coal Company?”

“Loser.”

The intoxicated soul put his book in his lap and looked at the man who could handle a lot of adulation.

“Whatcha reading?” asked the man.

“A book on the history of war. Civilization is the history of war. War. War. War.”

“You think you’re telling me something new? If it wasn’t war, it would be something else. It’s always something.”

“Always.”

No more buttons, sequins and fabric. No more socks and toenail polish. It is time to plunder and destroy.

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About judyjablow123

In my youth I was a world class tournament golfer. I earned an MA in history at NYU, after which I knew I had had enough of academia. I have remained a student of history. I have a strongly personal - almost entirely negative- take on the contemporary pharmaceutical and mental health industries. That was the impetus for my Bluepolar blog, which will also include stuff on sports, history and anything else that strikes my interest.
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