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In the silence of the morning my mind becomes confused between the dead and the sleeping
by anna at 02:45 AM on August 15, 2003
It is 3:18 AM EST. I just awoke alone with a dog and a crippled cat staring intently at me. My wife was nowhere to be seen. I eventually located her snoring on a loveseat with a M*A*S*H rerun playing. This disturbs me because I don't like to sleep alone.
I check out Bad Sam and note that both versions of Eff's latest post remain with separate but equal comment threads. Sooner or later, I know, someone will delete one or the other, wiping out whatever it is people had to say about it...forever. This too disturbs me.
I quietly ponder the day to come. I am off from work, which is good, but many daunting tasks await. In our ongoing effort to sell our house, my wife has insisted that I clear out my workshop, where the AC unit is housed. It has not been producing much if any cool air and we've been most uncomfortable. She wants to get it serviced but is mortified to let a workman in there. Problem is, temps will reach 95 tomorrow and it is the hottest room in the house. It hasn't been cleaned in 12 years. Sundry vermin live in there and may bite me. I wonder what sort of diseases I may contract.
So I wander outside and listen to the mournful crickets' chirps, faraway train whistles and a stranded dog yipping forlornly two blocks down. I smoke for no reason. 25 clocks chime in unison. It occurs to me that the only time we're truly alone and thus fully honest with ourselves is in the middle of the night, troubled by any number of nagging doubts and tribulations. And it's only then that we can be here now. As you were in your mama's womb, surrounded by placenta, so many years ago.
comments (8)
You said "serviced"!
I dunno, I think about when this website is wiped out, like if mg finally calls it quits or else when the planet blows up, and then all of our inspired words will instantly vanish into the ether.
by Linz at August 15, 2003 8:57 AM
Yeah I did. And as a matter of fact, I originally wrote "fixed" but thought "serviced" was better. Just as "debauchery" is better than, well, anything.
Yes, and it is very hot in that damn shop. I have sweated a gallon and must take a dip in our oversized kiddie pool.
by anna at August 15, 2003 10:42 AM
Sorry about the back-to-backs but I hit post too soon. I wonder what will happen if the site never ends. Twenty years from now people could be rooting around in the archives reading whatever inane drivel we slapped up here.
by anna at August 15, 2003 10:43 AM
this is my favorite post of recent times. i often think about the ever-building stack of information that computers have created. words typed, pictures sent...these are all intangible entities...just information...but real things like hard drives, and discs are needed to store it all....and eventually we'll be neck deep in it. so if bad sam ever takes the pipe...i'll be there....in the amazon...with a stick in hand and just poking in the river through all the cables and old zip disks to find the once enchanted server of our mental youths, our fancied twilights and our inveitable demise.
or it goes on forever and anna learns to type with his tongue once his fingers go out in his feeble years....
by lajoie at August 15, 2003 1:15 PM
The demons always visit in the middle of the night. Whether you want them to or not.
by Ezy at August 15, 2003 1:55 PM
Why thanks, Jo. My fingers are just fine though and I'm 44. The problem is I play FIFA with my son endlessly (as the Arsenal we are like 100-0.) I swear I've developed video game elbow. And it is painful to type.
by anna at August 15, 2003 2:14 PM
We'll live. Just think of all the conversations humankind has lost since the Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons. I bet there were some real zingers thought up, say, during the fall of the Roman Empire. And how about all the heartfelt moments and campfire tales? They're lost to us now. But we're doing okay without them. And there'll always be more.
by jean at August 17, 2003 5:15 AM
Personally I think the best times were prehistoric times. Nowadays we're so concerned with recording our lives for posterity that we forget to live them.
by anna at August 17, 2003 7:26 AM