Monday, March 28, 2005
I miss the early morning, pre dawn scent of coffee and cigarettes and cut grass
I miss waking up to a smoky and still dark sky and knowing exactly what day it is.
Something about this new life disorients me. It’s so…unstructured and so easy to get lost in. I find myself losing track of passing days, of disregarding things I once thought were important. It’s almost like I’m losing sense of myself, sometimes.
So many things to do and so many people I need and want to meet and somehow I can’t manage to do all the things I plan to.
I’ve been home sick for about 3 days now, and in between sleeping and popping little green-grey pills and imbibing copious quantities of water and lemon juice my company of choice has been Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude. It’s haunting and surreal and does little to improve my already fairly detached state of mind.
You know those dream-like fevered states that you sometimes drift through in a half asleep hazes when certain things just stick out with a strange lucidity and others just slip off into background-ness? Well while running a 39 degree fever 2 nights ago I had one of those exhausting dreams filled with recurrences of the following:
1) Blink 182’s I Miss You
2) Marquez’s Rebeca, the unwilling widow, eating earth, and earthworms in a whitewashed house
3) 4 lines an Alexander Pope poem (How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot! et al)
4) And an endless walk through an infinitely large room filled with shelves of shelves of shelves of books all of whose locations I was supposed to memorize.
All this culled from a journal entry I don’t even remember writing. And it did sound fairly creepy when I re-read it for the first time this afternoon.
And I’m still searching for something, but I don’t know what.
I love you
Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I just need you
Or maybe
Maybe it isn’t even you
~Machine~
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