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Reset Forty-Eight, Day Seventy-Five
May. 9th, 2023 08:13 amIt's Tuesday morning and I just ate some breakfast, as though I were still a guy who did that sort of thing, and I even had some coffee (with lots of milk) with it. I'm feeling sort of 1964 greasy spoon diner displaced and will probably dream about missing a bus next time I sleep. Does any of that make sense? Not even to me, really, though it seems as though it should. Honestly, I'm surprised I've got even that much memory left, or see any connections to it at all.
And what became of Monday, you may ask (not that anyone should care.) Well, I'm not too sure. I slept while a bit of rain fell, and then slept some more while the sun shone, then remembered to put the wheelie bin out before sleeping some more, than ate a sandwich and slept unintentionally while the computer rebooted, and finally found myself awake at going on four o'clock this morning, convulsed by godawful sneezes probably brought on by this year's overabundance of pollen. Who wouldn't want to forget all that? And the dreams, which I did in fact forget, though when I first remembered them they were appallingly vivid and disturbing.
That coffee will probably prevent me from sleeping again anytime soon, though I'm feeling quite tired. Tired and sleepy just don't always natch up anymore. They have a troubled history. But then don't we all? You don't have to talk about it. If we just sit here quietly, maybe it will all go away. Probably not, but dreams die hard. Then get forgotten. It's the circle of what passes for life when you discover that dementia bears such a strong resemblance to schizophrenia.
I'm going to listen to John Coltrane.
And what became of Monday, you may ask (not that anyone should care.) Well, I'm not too sure. I slept while a bit of rain fell, and then slept some more while the sun shone, then remembered to put the wheelie bin out before sleeping some more, than ate a sandwich and slept unintentionally while the computer rebooted, and finally found myself awake at going on four o'clock this morning, convulsed by godawful sneezes probably brought on by this year's overabundance of pollen. Who wouldn't want to forget all that? And the dreams, which I did in fact forget, though when I first remembered them they were appallingly vivid and disturbing.
That coffee will probably prevent me from sleeping again anytime soon, though I'm feeling quite tired. Tired and sleepy just don't always natch up anymore. They have a troubled history. But then don't we all? You don't have to talk about it. If we just sit here quietly, maybe it will all go away. Probably not, but dreams die hard. Then get forgotten. It's the circle of what passes for life when you discover that dementia bears such a strong resemblance to schizophrenia.
I'm going to listen to John Coltrane.
