Here it is, 4:43 AM, but because I’m one of those Central Standard Time people who are working in an Eastern Standard Time zone, it’s really a quarter to four in the morning as far as my internal clock is concerned. This time zone flipping really messes with me, mostly because I’m heading off to bed at 10 PM my time, and then . . . well, I’m telling you what I’m doing now, aren’t I?
Maybe one of the reasons I’m up early is due to dreams. I don’t know. Last night I was having something pretty damn strange happening to me, but try as I might, only little bits and pieces are coming back to me. There was camping out; there was something about having to sleep by myself the whole time; there was something about people laughing at me, and me just sort of taking it–
I did have one dream last night that sort of hit me in the face, however. Though I’m not really sure if it was a dream, or if I was sort of half-awake, half-asleep, as sometimes happens when you’re tired and you can’t tell where the hell your mind exists. It’s like this:
Much later this afternoon, after I blow off the hell I call work, I’ll engage in a ritual that I always perform around this time of year. I have a pretty good idea of where I will conduct this ritual, and as temped as I am to do it on the Statehouse lawn, that would likely see my ass thrown in jail. Not to mention that my Statehouse lawn fantasies involved Girl Scouts and cookies–not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter, perv.
Anyway, whatever mode of mental immersion I was in during the night saw me at the location of my ritual, and as I was sitting there, I sort of . . . deflated would be the best work. I began deflating, as if there were some weight atop me as the air was being let out.
And later, when I was returning to my car, I stop along the way, lean against a building–of which there are many around me–and let out a small, yet not-so-insignificant sob.
Screw all this crap, too.
I know what my mind is telling me; I know what it’d trying to do to me. It’s trying to get me down, yes it is. I admit: I do feel a little down, but not for the reasons one might think. There is a certain way I’d like to celebrate today’s ritual, but it’s not possible. It only happens in my mind that way–
The mind is doing some Total Recall shit on me, however. Next thing you know, it’ll be telling me to get my ass to Mars.
It’s time to stay focused. Get through the day, do my thing, return to The Undisclosed Location . . . Edit. Think. Continue.
It’s this story I’m on, I know it is. There is too much sadness there. And the editing is going really well.
Which means I care for this piece a lot.
But then, when don’t I?