the lingering arms and lips of dreams turn to dust in the space between sleep and waking, they're gone by the time the weak winter sunlight hits my eyelids. before I wake up all the way I search for ways to make the dream-feeling last, always end up feeling empty and sad before my top-down processing catches up and reality solidifies.
7:54am: reality is white noise, too much light, half a glass of red wine on the nightstand and tangled sheets.
I don't have enough of that chemical that paralyzes your major muscle groups during REM sleep so I'm always tossing, turning; twisting, tangling.
today will be spent watching the mist burn off the hills speeding north on I-5 in a rented chevy impala. black friday. I crave the feeling of traveling a long distance, even though I'm well aware I'm only a boomerang... come sunday I'll be back where I belong, washing the dishes that accumulated in my absence and trying to read paradise lost with a hangover.
my last journey north resulted in a skinned knee, a lost wallet, and a stolen passport. with no one to fill the hours before my bus pulled out of the station at midnight I paced the streets alone in the unseasonably cold spring and tried to work up the nerve to write a bad check for booze so my hands would stop shaking. rode the greyhound home with a broken heart and a ticket under someone else's name.
hard to believe that was less than a year ago.
this isn't the place for three-part comparisons between this year and last, for quirky references to my old self and the new self I don't quite identify with. I'm far too superstitious to tempt fate that way even when my foundation feels unshakable. I've been proven wrong too many times in too many nigh unbelievable ways.
for now, I'll enjoy the feeling of freeway stretching out endlessly behind and before me. I've been working on not ascribing unnecessary significance to everything, to living in the current moment...
fat chance, right?
7:54am: reality is white noise, too much light, half a glass of red wine on the nightstand and tangled sheets.
I don't have enough of that chemical that paralyzes your major muscle groups during REM sleep so I'm always tossing, turning; twisting, tangling.
today will be spent watching the mist burn off the hills speeding north on I-5 in a rented chevy impala. black friday. I crave the feeling of traveling a long distance, even though I'm well aware I'm only a boomerang... come sunday I'll be back where I belong, washing the dishes that accumulated in my absence and trying to read paradise lost with a hangover.
my last journey north resulted in a skinned knee, a lost wallet, and a stolen passport. with no one to fill the hours before my bus pulled out of the station at midnight I paced the streets alone in the unseasonably cold spring and tried to work up the nerve to write a bad check for booze so my hands would stop shaking. rode the greyhound home with a broken heart and a ticket under someone else's name.
hard to believe that was less than a year ago.
this isn't the place for three-part comparisons between this year and last, for quirky references to my old self and the new self I don't quite identify with. I'm far too superstitious to tempt fate that way even when my foundation feels unshakable. I've been proven wrong too many times in too many nigh unbelievable ways.
for now, I'll enjoy the feeling of freeway stretching out endlessly behind and before me. I've been working on not ascribing unnecessary significance to everything, to living in the current moment...
fat chance, right?
