In Greek, nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound. It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship. It’s a time machine. It goes backwards, forwards. It takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the Wheel. It’s called a Carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels. Around and around, and back home again… to a place where we know we are loved.
Mad Men, 1.13, “The Wheel”
Even with A make shift screen to keep the bugs out, i still find myself following the buzzing of midnight blood suckers around my room, and throwing crumpled floor t-shirts at the ceiling when i think i’ve found it. I lay down, close my eyes and listen..waiting for the moment that it gives itself up from its hiding place so I can exterminate it. I wait…I wait…I knows its there. I wait, eyes closed, waiting patiently breathing in, out…
I fall asleep
and wake up with red bumps.
you snooze you lose.
bleh, summer days.
The heat draws every remaining morsel of productivity from me, and if being unemployed and out of school was cause to get creative and enthusiastic then obviously I’m doing it wrong.
The photo is the view from my bed, where Ive been taking refuge from the thick suffocating blackness that resides outside my house. The smoke from the forests fires is eerie enough that residence are sticking close to home in the off chance they put out an evacuation notice. I don’t think that’s going to happen though. I find that I tend to over think these types of situations. None the less Im ready to grab my cat and photo albums and high tail it out of this inferno if the time comes.
Its 10:30 am, and I’m exhausted. Sleeping well seems to be on the list of things my body doesn’t want to do these days. You know your useless when you’re so unstimulated you can’t even sleep. I Don’t even know whats to blame for it? I go to bed, late and wake up early but I sleep. Not for very long, but i do. Perhaps the fact that my dreams have been oddly disturbing lately has something to do with it. Between losing control of my car and running over defenceless people, and being haunted by what was described as “negative energy” my dreams are …well (for lack of a better term) Right fucked.
And now, Im rambling on a blog site I haven’t touched in months, with hardly anyone to read it. Maybe thats comforting though.
Okay… I don’t know how to end this.
In the city I live in,
it’s a dreary day. So dark and ominous I thought waking up was the dream. to look out the window at 8am, and it be as black as if it were the middle of the night, something strange. I was out of wack, my sense of time went quietly drifting off in confusion. The smoke that had settled in my city had brought with it a muting affect. This dream world was quiet and apocalyptic. I could taste the fiery ash and no matter what I did, I couldn’t escape it. Every crevice intruded by the grey. On the ironically brighter side of this id rather be plagued with the smoke, then it’s flame.
I don’t often pray, but I prayed for rain.