Fantasy/reality

I slip too easily between these two places. Olga and I have been swapping astrological profiles, from a site with which I shan't bore you, and both of us agree that our summaries are terrifyingly accurate on the whole. There are parts, though, that I might not have shared. Well, of course I would have done, with Olga, who knows me, and whose knowing makes me feel at home... but I felt somewhat exposed nonetheless, when it said something to the effect that I was prone to "retreating into a fantasy world", and "may become a drug taker".

It's true, I run a parallel universe right alongside the one in which I ostensibly function, and I have an addictive personality. These are my two major weaknesses (ones that sit with a host of minor ones, that I suspect are much more visible, thank God).

It has not taken me long, being at Rogers' place and back in a kind of familiar place, comfort zone, to slip back into a lot of the fantasies by which I was troubled when I was here before. IQ has been making me crazy this past week, and yet my desire is not gone. It is much as it was in its early days - perhaps it's a seasonal thing, since this is the time of year it started!... The desire for power is manifesting itself - or perhaps masquerading - as sexual desire, and this despite everything she does. So part of me moves in the fantasy world I create for myself, where she might want me, where I might overcome her by seducing her, where I might win and get what I want.

And yet part of me knows that will never happen, and at the same time I am loathe to surrender this desire. Some part of me needs this fantasy, perhaps to work through all of my unhelpful fantasies - past, present and future - and perhaps because of my adictive personality. I find it so hard to give up habits.

Do any of us live in any kind of real world? Is there such a thing? Is not the idea of the 'real' always plagued by the unreality of the symbolic? Is it so unhealthy to dance amongst symbols, as I find myself doing? Is my attachment to symbols pathological? Where is the place I should be? Where do I go that is 'healthy'? Is 'healthy' the best place for me to be? For any of us to be?

If I were 'healthy' perhaps I wouldn't see these connections, as I have done... the monkeys, the men an their legs... it swims in my head and the pictures paint themselves, they shift, the morph, like capoiera, like tango, like some all-in-one-all-together movement where two are one and one is both and there is no start and no finish, but just movement, movement, movement... just dance. Dance, dance. Just fog, just smoke, nothing solid behind it, and yet something that overtakes me.

As I type I feel it coming out of me, it is something from deep inside that I didn't know was there, it is word, it is life, it is me. It is Me. I cannot stop, this is fantasy and addiction all at once, adn I am scared to continue and scared to stop, in case I stop being me all of a sudden. My fingers feel as they do when I play the piano, only better, this is music, this is the noise I could never make. Where and when will I ever stop this typing, this blogging? When will I step out of this fantasy world and back into reality? Or will I think I have stepped tehre and only trip, stumble back into a new fantasy world that I make for myself?