Time is on my mind.
Not lack of it, or schedules, but the nature of it.
Something tugs at my edges, gently, relentlessly.
Papier mache poppets dry on the hearth and I
complete other chores, ticking things off my lists, ticking off the moments.
All the while, I think about the nature of time and how we travel through it as we travel through space.
I can't read in moving cars, nor on the train, without motion sickness. But I can read on planes. It's easy to forget sometimes, that we're always moving through space and moving very fast.
I try to imagine being a dog, for just a moment, with my head sticking out of a car window, travelling fast, going I don't know where, watching objects flash by out of context, without attached values and histories and without knowing the car and the world are hurtling around the sun or that I'm moving through time.
Present in each moment as it comes.
and
Jones carbonated candy is weird--at least the Fufu Berry flavor is, and oddly addictive, at least while the tin sits in front of me. Still, once I leave this desk, I don't know that I'll have another. I'm beginning to feel as though I drank a cup of warm cola.
This might be a good night to rewatch Primer. But really, I'd be better off with My Name is Earl. After all, the muse needs variety.
g'night
2 comments:
I was given several different types of chocolate mints for christmas. Hershey's dark chocolate mint truffles. Andes mints. Dark chocolate mint Kit Kats, and Palmers Mint Favors. My wife collected them all together in a tin, so they couldn't corrupt any other foodstuffs with their creeping mint influence. So now I have a chocolate-mint-filled tin that I have been mindlessly picking at for the last few days. I think at this point, the taste of mint has branded itself onto my tongue to the point where I've become desensitized. Would simply moving the tin away from the desktop area help e resist its evil pull? The world may never know.
I showed my parents Primer on this night!
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