One of the Pack

Wow, people sure do want to belong to the pack. I do. No denying it, no intellectualizing otherwise, it is a fact. I feel gloomy whenever I feel, irrationally or not, that I've fallen out of the pack or was never one of their number to begin with. Thing is, I suspect that for the most part, the pack is largely a projection of any given person at any given time. In other words, what fucking pack? Depends on the moment, the perspective, the definer, the mood. But boy oh boy, can I feel out of it. Alone. A stray mutant sheep that not even wolves find interesting.

Mostly, I know this is not the case. More like a handicapping seizure that washes over me from time to time. Feelings that belong somewhere else, sometime else, splooging up from days gone by. But live or Memorex, the feelings are the same. Just gotta live with them.

I am going for a massage now. Accupressure; I am geeked. I wonder if my stiff neck slash shoulder will actually be relieved. I wonder if I will fit in with the getting-massages pack... ha ha.