My 12594th Day on Earth (or 12227th on Mars)
Ever wondered what your age would be on other planets? Of course you do - Who doesn't?
Woke up from a dream where I was a successful black man living in a beautiful high rise apartment in New York city. I made a living painting pictures of happy frogs. A former co-worker that I had a "crush" on lived in an apartment across from me, but she didn't see me.
I never question my subconscious. Why should I? It never questions me.
I woke up from the dream, head resting on a drool-coated pillow. Another exercise in humility, even in sleep.
I opened my eyes. Approximately 1 million years ago, two nuclei collided to produce nuclear fusion in the middle of the sun. Over the eons, the photon energy produced from that collision slowly wormed its way through the energy layers of the sun in a random pattern, finally freeing itself from its source star, and in 8 light-minutes it traveled through space to bore through my eyes into the deep recesses of my skull, resulting in pain. The universe is a wonderful thing.
I shielded my eyes from the onslaught of the multitude of other sun-emitted photons and realized that I wasn't a successful black man who painted frogs but instead I am a short, fat white guy who might be losing his deadend job.
I poured myself out of bed.
I hastedly threw on my clothes with the same care I took when I hastedly threw them off last night.
Last night? What happened last night?
Aha! Evidence: An empty bottle of brandy sulking on the floor and a bottle of Xanax cowering on the shelf. It must have been one of those nights.
Oh God... Please tell me I didn't email anyone last night.
Checking email. Two messages sent.
Shit.
Luckily - surprisingly - they were actually coherent and not at all embarassing. Whew...
Left my bedroom to get breakfast. My cat greeted me by using my leg as a scratching post. Thank God for denim jeans.
Turned on the news. Five people arrested in connection of a missing girl in Aruba, three dead boys found in the trunk of a car in New Jersey, fundamentalist hardliner voted into office in Iran, industrial plant explosion in St. Louis, Tom Cruise yet again praises Scientology. Turned off the news. Morbid satisfaction in knowing that, yes, my life could be worse.
Found a package from Amazon.com on the porch. Apparently I ordered 3 DVDs during a mini-manic episode one night. Always great to go on a shopping spree when on the verge of unemployment. The movies were "The Salton Sea," "Another Day in Paradise," and "Drugstore Cowboy." Ah, films about drug using losers trying to survive they hell they've created. Now THAT'S entertainment.
Drinking bland coffee, eating a forgettable breakfast, and thinking about the conversation I had yesterday with the air conditioning repairman. While we were both smoking cigarettes, he was telling me about his heart attack and two strokes he had last year.
Hey, take a look at your future self, Drake!
Bite me, Mr. Conscience! Who invited you to enter my mind?
Too tired and lazy to type anymore. Some other stuff happened, talked to some people, played phone tag with a couple of people, watched my new DVDs in a Xanax haze, hoping I can get medical leave from work since I missed 14 days straight because of neverending depression, listened to music, did some other stuff, feeling overwhelmed with everything, problems with relationships, loss of sex drive, trying to be social with neighbors when I would rather just hide from everyone...
And I watched an unusual spider crawling around the ceiling of my neighbor's indoor porch, its shadow long and distorted, the undulating pulses of light and shadow from the ceiling fan casting over its nearly translucent body. Ironic to be aware of a living presence on the ceiling, knowing that it was probably completely unaware of my existence.
The universe is a wonderful thing.
Woke up from a dream where I was a successful black man living in a beautiful high rise apartment in New York city. I made a living painting pictures of happy frogs. A former co-worker that I had a "crush" on lived in an apartment across from me, but she didn't see me.
I never question my subconscious. Why should I? It never questions me.
I woke up from the dream, head resting on a drool-coated pillow. Another exercise in humility, even in sleep.
I opened my eyes. Approximately 1 million years ago, two nuclei collided to produce nuclear fusion in the middle of the sun. Over the eons, the photon energy produced from that collision slowly wormed its way through the energy layers of the sun in a random pattern, finally freeing itself from its source star, and in 8 light-minutes it traveled through space to bore through my eyes into the deep recesses of my skull, resulting in pain. The universe is a wonderful thing.
I shielded my eyes from the onslaught of the multitude of other sun-emitted photons and realized that I wasn't a successful black man who painted frogs but instead I am a short, fat white guy who might be losing his deadend job.
I poured myself out of bed.
I hastedly threw on my clothes with the same care I took when I hastedly threw them off last night.
Last night? What happened last night?
Aha! Evidence: An empty bottle of brandy sulking on the floor and a bottle of Xanax cowering on the shelf. It must have been one of those nights.
Oh God... Please tell me I didn't email anyone last night.
Checking email. Two messages sent.
Shit.
Luckily - surprisingly - they were actually coherent and not at all embarassing. Whew...
Left my bedroom to get breakfast. My cat greeted me by using my leg as a scratching post. Thank God for denim jeans.
Turned on the news. Five people arrested in connection of a missing girl in Aruba, three dead boys found in the trunk of a car in New Jersey, fundamentalist hardliner voted into office in Iran, industrial plant explosion in St. Louis, Tom Cruise yet again praises Scientology. Turned off the news. Morbid satisfaction in knowing that, yes, my life could be worse.
Found a package from Amazon.com on the porch. Apparently I ordered 3 DVDs during a mini-manic episode one night. Always great to go on a shopping spree when on the verge of unemployment. The movies were "The Salton Sea," "Another Day in Paradise," and "Drugstore Cowboy." Ah, films about drug using losers trying to survive they hell they've created. Now THAT'S entertainment.
Drinking bland coffee, eating a forgettable breakfast, and thinking about the conversation I had yesterday with the air conditioning repairman. While we were both smoking cigarettes, he was telling me about his heart attack and two strokes he had last year.
Hey, take a look at your future self, Drake!
Bite me, Mr. Conscience! Who invited you to enter my mind?
Too tired and lazy to type anymore. Some other stuff happened, talked to some people, played phone tag with a couple of people, watched my new DVDs in a Xanax haze, hoping I can get medical leave from work since I missed 14 days straight because of neverending depression, listened to music, did some other stuff, feeling overwhelmed with everything, problems with relationships, loss of sex drive, trying to be social with neighbors when I would rather just hide from everyone...
And I watched an unusual spider crawling around the ceiling of my neighbor's indoor porch, its shadow long and distorted, the undulating pulses of light and shadow from the ceiling fan casting over its nearly translucent body. Ironic to be aware of a living presence on the ceiling, knowing that it was probably completely unaware of my existence.
The universe is a wonderful thing.
posted by Drake at 10:48 AM
8 comments
