Avoiding Alyson

I’ve shunned sleep like a friend I am avoiding. (to what purpose?) Perhaps I cheated on her with day. Sunshine. That nap in the afternoon. Too-late caffeine pulsing up the veins. Night-sleep upsets herself with me and tossing me out into the day without much energy to perform surgeries or diagnostics or trampoline tricks- the bridge is crossed by only kindred spirits and I hear them rustling about in their tomb cottages making floorboards creak as if they had anything more than celestial, transitory weight. Alyson, though. Why didn’t I ask you about your life? This space is huge and ridiculous and expensive. My body is numb. I walked away from the theory examination with a dull roar in my head. One of insecurity and disbelief. Allison. How did you do on your test? Shouldn’t we have talked about something else? Dual citizenship? Asian-American. How is your existence? What do you like to do when your afternoon is over? Can we be friends, get coffee, lunch, laugh a hundred times, share music, consider the following, cancel magazine subscriptions, share gum, stumble listlessly across the dark planks of a dock party well spent and then our drunk friends carol us back never knowing we knew they did not know what we knew.

She walked off to her vigilant feminism and her artistry. It is an illusion. I walked into a cloud and floated around for awhile. An out of body experience, so pointless, barely hanging on to the atmosphere, the tug of outer space was felt and I could have melted away for eons before returning. What if they found my body on campus. Not dead. Just vacant minded and melting into outer space. What medical miracle could resuscitate such evacuated consciousness and then when my eyes connected with theirs could I transfer information as adequately as words are tossed through the air, caught in the teeth of a fetching dog, the ears of a friend, the mild voiced and restless tired soul of the stomping soldier- the mine field and the ballroom dancing. The volcano eruption and the alpine picnic. The tsunami and the stand up paddle board.

Does it also melt into the whirlpool for you?

When this feels like insanity and never waking up is a genuine threat after some heavier meals how can social relationships, Alison, be difficult, be worthwhile, be real, golden, sparkling, active, outdoorsy type, haunting… Then with you Laura, just as well. Ph.D and the snow shoe kayaking weekend. The dragon in the sky at gas works. Lake Leena. Lower. the Calanque along the Mediterranean. Et. al. It is a wild experience to find my own life disappearing so strangely. Time is a bandit and stolen moments caused by a faulty wired mind create these voids and these lulls in my demeanor not to be filled out easily by new information. It is a suction and a forgetting of urgency.

Tonight when my eyes feel water-logged with the weight of my history… all of the analyzed details of past experience… comparisons and contrasts… assignments burned by an angry technological god… a general lack of internal compass and total nausea, disquiet, and a faint and inexpressive sigh that echoes through all my deep seated marabar caves until all continents come out roaring. My life makes no sense. It is too many disconnected elements and all so constant. Too many impressions to keep track of and an editing is of utmost importance or else a dying obscurity. A senselessness. Useless. Function as something to your world. Do not be the broken pieces.

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