February 26, 2002

A Week in the Life

February 26
I realized today that under the couch, there's a whole other section of floor, and all sorts of stuff is there, like the T.V. clicker, and the pizza I lost last week. However, I can't get to any of it, because there's a couch above it. What bozo came up with that system? I wanted to make a mental note to work on the problem later, but I couldn't find a pen. Frustration, thy name is couch.

February 27
Today was a good day. I woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head, did all that other stuff, then somebody spoke and I fell into a dream. A new record for how long I was able to remain non-divergent at one time. Yeah me.

February 28
Today was a long day. I watched the clock for almost an hour at one point, and only fifty-four minutes passed by during that whole time. I don't know how much more I can take at that rate. Shortly after that, my watch beeped, and I fell into a dream. Damn.

A thought: If love is blind, and dog is love, is there really much point in having a seeing-eye god? I'll have to bring that up with my congressperson. There should be a law or something.

February 29
I saw a purple cow today, I never hoped to see one...but there it was, standing in the middle of the shopping mall, wandering around, entertaining the children in front of FAO Schwartz. The ditty he sang, I think I shall never forget: I love you, you love me, we're a happy family...it was only then that I realized how much I missed my own family. So long ago, it was so long ago. I can still remember my mother, seeing me off, waving goodbye, a tear in her eye, as I gazed out the window at her, and saw her fade into the distance. I remember, I tried to wave back, but the strait jacket was on too tight.

A ponderance: Why do they tell you not to wear plaid with stripes? What the hell do they think plaid is made of, anyways? Miss Manners must be destroyed at all costs.

February 30
Today I had potato salad.

February 31
Today I had potato salad. Or was that yesterday?

February 32
I discovered at work today that just because people put something in a refrigerator does not mean that it is edible. Such is the case for baking soda. Chalk that one up to experience.

February 33
That music, that haunting music, it torments me. The melody, so beautiful, yet so fleeting...it enters my head, and it is as if I have been touched by an angel. It lifts my prayer to heaven, and carries me on its wings of memory...and then, just as suddenly, it's gone, and the screaming of the thousand black voids re-enters my psyche. Oh, how I wish, just once, I could capture the peace of that melody, and hold on to it. I don't know where the music comes from, and I suspect I probably never will.

That big white truck with 'Good Humor' written on the side came by today, too.


March 1
Maybe it's all right after all. For so long now, I've been struggling to find inner peace, amid the hurly burly of the modern world, and the mish mash of sights and sounds, and I never needed to. Every day, I wake up, and pray to whatever's out there that hears prayer that I will remain here, remain here, stay in the place that bids me to leave, and for what? I think it's all right.

I fell into a dream today, and did not wake up. They'll come looking for me, I'm sure, but I don't think they'll find me. I've run away, to a place where the plaid and the stripes and the screaming babies and the thousand black voids can't come, it's a sanctuary I found, in my own home. I fell into a dream today, and that's all right. I'm all right...well, all right, except for one thing: It's a little dusty here under the couch.

Posted by NIFAIRIOUS at February 26, 2002 06:46 PM