The trauma of reality.
No matter how many times reality hits you in the face, it's sting and it's ugly foul breath does not cease to displease. Sometimes, reality doesn't even deal with the things that belong to you or are vaguely connected to you. Sometimes it is the drowning feeling of having a dark revelation of the real world. I am not good at that. My game and main business as a child was to cut out a little bit of good from the world and make it my world, with nothing else in it. With this encapsulation, I survived a good number of years. I don't know whether I am growing too large and there is no longer enough pretty sunshine in one spot to make a good cubby hole, or if the world is just getting more putrid by the hour. It makes me retract and I run a good search to look for the things that take me back in time to the good old. I am losing those too. I think it must be some penalty I am paying for growing up and I hate it so much. Dennis is a precious man because he is staunch in the face of impending reality (read doom) and is such a genuine optimist that I cannot help but believe too.
I felt nearly sick when I had finished the trio of Louis Theroux's documentaries. I was not impressed with his personality although I admit he was able to convey reality with pixels very well. The idea of human degradation, however consensual, is completely disgusting.
