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that fresh-start, wealth-of-possibilities feeling is dimmer than a day or two ago. not for want of trying, all of the old pieces want to remain in place: Monday, in all its Mundane glory. there must be a reason why the two words sound so similar. maybe it's "holiday lag". same gathering of possessions. same route. same silence as i enter the building at work. the same clich�s. as if the very fabric of our existence depends upon the same humorless approach to the frivolous assembly of magazines. even my own hand wants to betray me by unconsciously going through the familiar motions of writing an "'03" where a "'04" should go. uh-oh... time warp. it's like being in the wake of a giant exhale. calm after the storm. post-post orgasm. gone is the frenzied anticipation, the beat-the-clock pace of pre-festivities. now it's spent... spacey. not on the same page... like a foreign place... other. in fact, the theme of today seems to be "UFO", come to think of it. i threw in a CD to dent the silence with rhythms undefined, a borrowed copy of Orb's UFO... which Biggles insisted that i had to give a listen. Gas Music From Jupiter. oy! where's my beat? later, i dug into the drawer to find some dinner... into my collection of bargain ramen from the oriental market. out comes a shrink-wrapped bowl of... wait for it... UFO. the only occidental writing on the label of colorful Korean, festooned with foodstuffs of surreal colour, not appearing in nature. even getting to work was a twilight-zone experience on the maiden voyage of the resurrected SAAB. after weeks of transplants and curses, the hour-and-a-half was a sensory experience of listening for noises that weren't there, anticipating warnings from underhood or in the dash, tactile feelings of things not right... scored by 1920's jubilee music from the old tapes i grabbed for the trip. not that i was disappointed when i arrived without incident, but there was that unmistakable feeling of expecting the other shoe to drop. muzzle flash but no report. damn hypersensitivity, anyway. meanwhile, my seasonally-disaffected brain refuses to co-operate with the regimen required to Get The Job Done. perhaps i'll slip back into the familiar groove, when the clock goes 'round. seems counterproductive, doesn't it? |
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