3-XI-08 (Birthday month)

It's been a slow existence since the beginning of August. My travels down south to Maryland having ceased, I've fallen into the repetitious motions of two kinds of work; financially supporting myself and the road towards a masters degree. As I trudge into the fourth month of this regimented schedule the manifestation of depression around me seems to have become accentuated. I've been focused on the growing worries and concerns of others, as a climate of anxiety continues to build around me.
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The dreams that define who I am have grown into old beakers, vessels for suppressed memories. Gone are the cinematic dreams of subterranean space wars, the banishment to the realm of garbage or devil dolls incinerating churches. I am in prison with a former lover, and she tells me that an inmate will rape me before the day's end. I am an observer of a deathmatch involving old friends I never talk to. Finally, I am on a trail in a vaguely familiar forest, and I am being led by an old elementary school teacher to a place where I'll be made a eunuch.
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As I grind rock down to the width of a hair, I am beginning to perceive that most advice is flawed. I say this after spending over a month's time, intermittently, in a lab that should be neutron bombed in order to disintegrate all the inhabiting Cold War ghosts haunting the lab's residing pack-rat. He surrounds himself with half-finished projects and obsolete machinery. Yes, I choose to ignore that corner of the building.