Posthuman Blues

Today was . . . pleasant. New furniture in my apartment lobby after months of tedious remodeling. The chatter of Starbucks patrons. A not altogether unpleasant day at work.

And yet -- that persistent feeling that I'm wading through a clever hologram . . . that all is a solipsistic delusion that could come crashing to pieces at any moment, like a film committed to brittle Celluloid.

I will myself numb so that I can't feel the blade cleaving my brain into pieces.