51/302-304-305-306: Deep Breath
Dec. 29th, 2025 08:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphI missed an entire weekend. It was sunny, too, after a very wet Friday. There was a whole lot of sleeping going on, mostly done by me, as when I woke up (by day at least) I heard other people going about their business the way they do, and I left them to it without interfering, the way I do, and so everything was normal, the way it ought to be. Of course that means there's nothing to write about, which I can live with since I can't focus on writing very well anymore anyway.
But then sometimes I'd wake up in the dark, and then it would be weird. My sense of time gets totally buggered (I think that's the scientific term) when I wake up in the dark anymore, and when I look at the readout on the phone it seems I'm always surprised at how much or little time has passed since I was last conscious, even though I often can't remember when I was last conscious and am only making wild guesses. As often as not, I'm also even surprised at what day it turns out to be, but then that happens when I wake up in daylight as well, so maybe a different issue.
Also when I wake up in the dark I frequently have fleeting glimpses of vanishing dreams, and get the feeling that they are making themselves scarce because they don't want me to know just how freaking weird they are. Can brains protect themselves from oncoming madness by avoiding thinking about it? Because sometimes that's what it feels like my brain is trying to do. I don't think It'll work. In the end I expect I'll be batshit crazy, no matter what I try, consciously or not, to do to prevent it. But damn, those dream fragments are freaking ultimate weird!
But I digress. Or evade. Or something. I think I should eat something other than the two triangles of a Toblerone bar I bought on sale recently but still paid too much for and now am using to fool my stomach into thinking it's been fed a meal. I especially don't feel like cooking this time of day, and wish I had an old-school coffee shop nearby that served breakfast all day, although if I did I'd also have to wish I still had the energy to drag my disintegrating carcass thither and sufficient cash to cover a tab about double in constant dollars what it used to cost for the same stuff back when I did have such places nearby. Come to think, that's even scarier than those dreams that flee like roaches when I wake from them. Maybe I'll just open a carton of yogurt and forget that lost civilization I once inhabited.
Two more sunny days, including today, until showers arrive for the year's end, and then three straight days of chilly rain to begin 2026, or so the forecast says. So it has come to this. I'm apt to see another year begin, and have no idea why. Should I apologize? Expect an apology? I probably ought to just nap some more. Might as well, can't dance.
Belated Sunday Verse
by Amy Lowell
Before me lies a mass of shapeless days,
Unseparated atoms, and I must
Sort them apart and live them. Sifted dust
Covers the formless heap. Reprieves, delays,
There are none, ever. As a monk who prays
The sliding beads asunder, so I thrust
Each tasteless particle aside, and just
Begin again the task which never stays.
And I have known a glory of great suns,
When days flashed by, pulsing with joy and fire!
Drunk bubbled wine in goblets of desire,
And felt the whipped blood laughing as it runs!
Spilt is that liquor, my too hasty hand
Threw down the cup, and did not understand.
But then sometimes I'd wake up in the dark, and then it would be weird. My sense of time gets totally buggered (I think that's the scientific term) when I wake up in the dark anymore, and when I look at the readout on the phone it seems I'm always surprised at how much or little time has passed since I was last conscious, even though I often can't remember when I was last conscious and am only making wild guesses. As often as not, I'm also even surprised at what day it turns out to be, but then that happens when I wake up in daylight as well, so maybe a different issue.
Also when I wake up in the dark I frequently have fleeting glimpses of vanishing dreams, and get the feeling that they are making themselves scarce because they don't want me to know just how freaking weird they are. Can brains protect themselves from oncoming madness by avoiding thinking about it? Because sometimes that's what it feels like my brain is trying to do. I don't think It'll work. In the end I expect I'll be batshit crazy, no matter what I try, consciously or not, to do to prevent it. But damn, those dream fragments are freaking ultimate weird!
But I digress. Or evade. Or something. I think I should eat something other than the two triangles of a Toblerone bar I bought on sale recently but still paid too much for and now am using to fool my stomach into thinking it's been fed a meal. I especially don't feel like cooking this time of day, and wish I had an old-school coffee shop nearby that served breakfast all day, although if I did I'd also have to wish I still had the energy to drag my disintegrating carcass thither and sufficient cash to cover a tab about double in constant dollars what it used to cost for the same stuff back when I did have such places nearby. Come to think, that's even scarier than those dreams that flee like roaches when I wake from them. Maybe I'll just open a carton of yogurt and forget that lost civilization I once inhabited.
Two more sunny days, including today, until showers arrive for the year's end, and then three straight days of chilly rain to begin 2026, or so the forecast says. So it has come to this. I'm apt to see another year begin, and have no idea why. Should I apologize? Expect an apology? I probably ought to just nap some more. Might as well, can't dance.
Belated Sunday Verse
A Blockhead
by Amy Lowell
Before me lies a mass of shapeless days,
Unseparated atoms, and I must
Sort them apart and live them. Sifted dust
Covers the formless heap. Reprieves, delays,
There are none, ever. As a monk who prays
The sliding beads asunder, so I thrust
Each tasteless particle aside, and just
Begin again the task which never stays.
And I have known a glory of great suns,
When days flashed by, pulsing with joy and fire!
Drunk bubbled wine in goblets of desire,
And felt the whipped blood laughing as it runs!
Spilt is that liquor, my too hasty hand
Threw down the cup, and did not understand.
