everything, and everything

the skritch skritch skritch
of something complicated in the background
a sophisticated noise 
(which just means poorly justified static garble)
dzzt dzzzzt dzzztoh, and female vocals
lined with those submlinal head totting thingums
an infectious sound malady
(hardly a melody, and the furthest thing from a remarkable vocabulary)
dip, dipping, dippest
a seductive lull in the musi...
whoops, no, there it is, returning sans any respectable remorse
dzzt dzzzzt dzzzt dzzzzt dzzt
that infectious viral noise
slowly dehydrating a once promising cerebellum
but still
dzzt dzzzt dzzzzt dzzt dzt

when we pine for higher ceilings, and bourgeois happy feelings

There's a secret that the more sensible girl hides away from us, which is that having a good cry, far from being sissy, is a very effective and efficient way of processing overwhelming and especially unwanted emotion. The "macho" business of hoisting your testicles firmly and setting your jaw firmly as you wade through it is:

1. Physically fucking exhausting
2. Psychologically and cognitively quite overwhelming, with lots of mental processing needed
3. Lonely
4. A long winded pointless affair

Where having a proper cry about something which deserves a cry about (there's no criteria, your mind just knows) is, while physically intense, quite relieving, resolving, inviting of social support, and can (relatively) quickly turn a complex situation into one which is more digestible.

So thinking through that, and reading through the top five regrets of dying people has left me in a particularly mulling mood. hurrah.