Fear/Shooting Yellows/Rock and Roll
I know why I can hold my breath this long. I don’t know what it takes to get to the point where I can do it so easily, but I know why I’m there when I feel it. Like I’m not really connected to myself. It was first the situation. It was a regular day, marking the beginning of the first week after the breakup, I finished the book Killing Yourself to Live by Chuck Klosterman (4/5 stars) and I’d spent the night previous high on the best weed I’ve ever smoked (5/5 stars). So, as my brain slowly completed rebooting itself, I barely heard Kurt give out instructions for the next lap of buttefly drills. I felt suddenly I could manage it, even in my baggy trunks and so I did an underwater all the way across the pool like it was nothing. I popped up on the other side, hardly even winded. I’d been swirling thoughts and water all day, but I find myself hopelessly swamped in thought again. That’s classic. A real Jamesy thing to do. Think yourself into a paralyzing state of self-hypno...