It's On My Nightstand Anyway
Ahhh. Everybody’s fighting in the hallway. If you believe you have been receiving an e-mail newsletter from my office, you are wrong.
This morning it took me an hour, on the long-ass nose, to get to work. This hasn’t happened in a while, but once in a while is more than plenty. Quality of life, a phrase I’ve picked up from reading countless articles on sleep research, is seriously depleted by sitting in barely moving traffic for extended periods of time. I’m at a point where I don’t get riled up and angry because, despite fantasies of Turbo Boosting the hell out, there isn’t anything I can do but sit and wait. During this time I think, though it isn’t optimal thinking time. From a certain angle, though, it’s a different kind of thinking time than I usually have which therefore makes it valuable. Nonetheless, the sitting in traffic prompts me again to conjure an out. It’s been a little more than three years since I moved to New Jersey. Is it still an experiment (like everything else) or am I becoming a resident, a Jerseyite? I don’t think I’ll ever be a Jerseyite; my voice simply isn’t loud enough, my opinions not loudly unyielding enough. These are gross generalizations that I can see through; settle down. So far here I’ve come up with a three-year boyfriend (yes, picked him up just after I dropped in) and good lasting friends. I don’t think the time for out is just yet. But I might rather this thing called living be ever-surprised by an ever-shifting setting rather than stop-settled in. On the other hand, surprise could be a matter of shifting perspective: Space Asians Exploding, Exploding Space Asians, variable fires in the same hole. Patience, Luke.
Cat Power’s covers album smoothes and soothes the moment, counters bad traffic energy and fighting in the hallway. My chum in Ireland just called. Blackberry brandy is in the air.
This morning it took me an hour, on the long-ass nose, to get to work. This hasn’t happened in a while, but once in a while is more than plenty. Quality of life, a phrase I’ve picked up from reading countless articles on sleep research, is seriously depleted by sitting in barely moving traffic for extended periods of time. I’m at a point where I don’t get riled up and angry because, despite fantasies of Turbo Boosting the hell out, there isn’t anything I can do but sit and wait. During this time I think, though it isn’t optimal thinking time. From a certain angle, though, it’s a different kind of thinking time than I usually have which therefore makes it valuable. Nonetheless, the sitting in traffic prompts me again to conjure an out. It’s been a little more than three years since I moved to New Jersey. Is it still an experiment (like everything else) or am I becoming a resident, a Jerseyite? I don’t think I’ll ever be a Jerseyite; my voice simply isn’t loud enough, my opinions not loudly unyielding enough. These are gross generalizations that I can see through; settle down. So far here I’ve come up with a three-year boyfriend (yes, picked him up just after I dropped in) and good lasting friends. I don’t think the time for out is just yet. But I might rather this thing called living be ever-surprised by an ever-shifting setting rather than stop-settled in. On the other hand, surprise could be a matter of shifting perspective: Space Asians Exploding, Exploding Space Asians, variable fires in the same hole. Patience, Luke.
Cat Power’s covers album smoothes and soothes the moment, counters bad traffic energy and fighting in the hallway. My chum in Ireland just called. Blackberry brandy is in the air.
1 Comments:
ok....what am i to infer from this? do you think maybe i'm an alien? and a little gassy? hmmm?
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