Secret Pop

Jan 15, 2004

Accidents Will Happen

The word of the day arrived in my inbox a while ago. It was "serendipity." How fortunate. (Note: This is me attempting to be humorous.)

I don't know why I felt sad today. The sun was out and warm and brilliant. Crowds at the various shopping and theatregoing venues around town were ample and cheerful. I had a nice patio lunch and took a few photos. The shutter on my Lomo is a little sticky. Whiskey and 7-Up must have sloshed onto it during the Crystal Method affair. I will see to cleaning it with a meticulous Q-tip soon enough.

I was good. I returned some of my holiday shopping excesses and did not give in to the temptation to replace them with new frivolities. I was patient. I laughed when plans went awry. I shrugged off many burdens that might have leveled me on a different Wednesday. But still I felt sad. Still I felt the time slipping by. The meaning escaping me. The everything pressing on ahead of my grasping fingers. And I don't know why. Honestly. Sometimes I think it's the infrequent ghosts. The memories that visit me. The flashes that flicker in my peripheral vision. The times when I am afraid to turn my head. I just felt a sort of exhaustion. Barely willing to make a decision about what to eat because I didn't feel like eating. But I was ever so thirsty.

The dreams I had before I awakened this morning were numerous and strange. Too many stoves in the kitchen. Which one to keep. An extra apartment I had forgotten about. Seeing my dad driving in front of me and my sister on the highway on a motorcycle, then watching him veer sharply off the highway and seem to take a fall. We went after him, and he had indeed fallen, but he seemed angry with us for following him, and we were surprised to see my mom there, recording all the events with a video camera. He was wearing a red jacket. There were too many dishwashers, too. But none of the appliances were the same brand. And I couldn't be certain which of the stoves worked best. I'm not one to tell my dreams. I don't find them interesting, nor do I delude myself that others will. But I was in a loop this morning. Even in my dreams I dreamed I was waking in my room and looking at the clock and seeing that it was time to wake up. And then I would actually wake up and realize it wasn't that time at all and that it all been a dream. And then I would ACTUALLY wake up. For all I know, I am still dreaming even now. The morning had no meaning for me. No basis. I never got my land legs back.

Maybe that's why I have felt so caged in today. Maybe I'm just waiting to wake up and find that Wednesday is just beginning. Instead, I have already wandered into Thursday, and before I can get hold of that, it will be February. It's not the speed that unsettles me. It's the ease.

I always liked the name of Wednesday. Especially in French. It's the prettiest day of the week in French.

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