"A Fragile Monster"
HOPE has fucked me over (so anger stepped in)..x
If you like your newsletters without politics or preconceptions or seeking a break from the norm you may have just found your new hangout
Monday -30 September 2024
Dear Chasers💗
I never know where to write these days. I have more branches of newsletters on various trees than I know what to do with, what started out as a system so that I would also feel comfortable writing, no matter what topic, has now become a bit like overwhelm with too many choices. I’m trying not to complain and anyway, I’m here now, so a decision has been made. It has been a while since I wrote to you from NEW:JustClingingOn💗 So if you would like to do a wee backward-catch up following reading this one here below are the one’s you’re going to most likely wish to see. Three recent posts of mine which may be of interest and in connection to this letter from The Daily Chase (which admittedly is not so daily):
I feel like I may have been applying too much pressure in my work over there. I have had a lot of offloading to get out in a kind of casual writing style format and prefer to purge my soul in smaller doses with my Daily Chasers (semi-regularly). I feel more like preparing a more complete ‘essay’ thing here. Which is more meaty and less chatty; that’s not to say I wish to do leave you out over or ramble rapid fire like a madwoman angry texting here with you Chasers!
I’m hoping that as I am unable to change the actual physical location (at home) where I am typing this at the moment - that, a change in Blog page might do just as good for me, and with a little bit of luck, you will enjoy this so much you might subscribe to The Daily Chase Newsletter too. I hope that in my adjusting my environment and audience, I might stand a chance at regulating my emotional attachment to the words, and it should show in a more neutral tone and confident voice as I write something down here.
That’s the initial plan! but before we begin with the madness-of-mind musings ‘essay’ called “A Fragile Monster” I wish to share some lighter notes with you. A few things I have been consuming.
Netflix: Designated Survivor 2019 Series (3 Seasons)
I have just started this series, and as a person who has no business being in the presence of anything political, I have really started to like this. I am on episode 3 (but will have to start from somewhere else next time I watch it again because I fell asleep about a half way through near the beginning!).
Currently (trying to) Read(ing)
I bought a big thick book with a collection of three stories by the Bronte Sisters. This is the first. I am eager to read Wuthering Heights for some reason. I sort of remember listening to a tape cassette version of it being narrated. I’m going in blind because I struggle with classics being so boring. The last classic I read was The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. It was wild!
Spotify:
Jon Allen - Blue Flame ALBUM
“A FRAGILE MONSTER” mind-mooching ‘essay’of sorts, notes, thoughts.
The dry cold of September biting at the tips of my ears tonight reminds me I am alive. Hyper-life is what keeps me going sometimes. In this icy impenetrable fog, my heart is breaking. The extraordinary in the ordinary become like dejavu testimony to a life of nostalgia and melancholy that I seem to be longing for and missing from a future so unsure; even the order that the shadowy clouds have gathered themselves in, against the dusk of a dark sky, seem to be familiar and still.
When my surroundings aren’t moving, I have to try harder to find the motivation to keep myself going from inside the depths of my brain and that is why I write. I call my baseline emotion ‘melancholic panic’ bordering on denial is my way of dealing with hope. I hadn’t noticed this at the time but sitting on the tram tonight; I was one hundred percent alone in my mind for the first time in over a decade.
Usually wherever I reside or ride out to, my partner is lodged between every other cog in my mind. I am never alone when I think I know he loves me. I haven’t thought about him all night. It’s been just me in my little world of cosy anxiety. Minding my own business a little blanket of bleakness with only my own life to think of now.
On my way home, looking out from the window, I catch stars twinkling in the mist like a failed firework display. It’s then when I remember him and realise, I want him to stay in place of the revolutionary, light-bulb moment of insight, that for 1.5 decades of my life, and which would be for the second time. I might have been romantically scammed. Only this time, I wasn’t loved bombed - I’d just begged, stole and borrowed to get the crumbs of his love and won the whole loaf - so it seemed, or seems I had made a rod for my own back by doing those embarrassing things.
‘’First impressions count’’ is a constant phrase he believes in. I remember every conversation running through my head like a goldfish bowl of tears and there is not turning back, only my persistent, lack of an argument, but a deep believe that that fucking saying is only suitable for employment interviews and fuck all else. Then I start to wonder, in the way that nobody else would do “Is that why he calls me his partner! Because we are in some sort of business acquaintance/fake relationship?!!” I feel everything. As I have said before.
Then my mind turns to my imaginary muses, daydream lovers, or those beautiful real awesome ‘wholesome’ kind strangers who have become friends still steering lifeboats with tiny rudders to keep me afloat through times of trouble and storms of distress. Thanks to them I can crack on and commit to a page or print, my worries and stress without judgement or added duress to impress. Now how Lyrical does that all sound there.!! Xx
I hate sinking back inside my misshapen mind which feels warped the majority of the time. I feel like I am a resistance fighter armed with affection. A warrior fighting against myself with weapons of mass kindness and imagination.
I’M A FRAGILE MONSTER - Reality is weighing heavy on me as I seem to have lost my taste for DREAMING - the imagination’s magical remedies have FAILED.
I keep colliding with self doubt. My triggers are:
Mismanaged Love
Amorous Indigestion
A mouth that creases like a paper duck’s beak.
The uniform of long-term mental illness
A cast-iron willy.
I am on the verge of fizzy tears. The bubbles prick my eyes. My identity is adulterated each day that passes makes the fight for me to stay myself even more difficult. Loneliness blooms. The emptiness builds and builds until it could shatter windows in my mind. All I can do is try hold my head up high and keep walking.
I will be leaving you here with our EXIT SONG:
Yours humbly, (and forever weirdly) yet considerably yours! HA! Love & HUGE soft HUGS, Chasey Delaney from THE DAILY CHASE and JUSTCLINGINGON💗 Newsletters/ Podcasts. xxx
