September 12th, 2021

caillebotte_man at his window

Reset Thirty-Three, Day Six

The waking up Saturday was not easy. I'd gotten to sleep very late, my brain running a pointless race to nowhere as the light and the room grew brighter, and then the subsequent oblivion I finally reached was punctuated with bursts of awareness— not dead, not dead, not dead— until finally the moment came when I was fully aware of my not deadness and thinking, well, this is very sad. By then it was rather late in the afternoon, and the not deadness was nagging me to get up and do something, and I was forced to give up doing the one thing that was making not being dead worthwhile, which was moping. If you can't mope, you might as well look at the Internet, which is what I then did.

Internet was pretty much the same as it had been the day before, but it was at least a distraction, and I remained distracted for a couple of hours, until it was time to eat a sandwich. The sandwich was less distracting than the Internet, but I opened a jar of pepperoncini, and they augmented the distraction sufficiently that I was able to remain largely oblivious to reality for another half hour. The effects of the beer I had with the sandwich added another hour, and by then night had fully fallen and I went outdoors and sat in the dark for a while, wondering what became of the Friday and Saturday night gatherings of car enthusiasts who had added so much aural drama to the neighborhood last summer. They use to hang out at the Kmart parking lot, but it's been along time since I've heard their rumbling engines and squealing tires. Perhaps they've gone back to the bars.

The remainder of the night has been squandered on the Internet again, mostly by watching music videos. For the most part they are undemanding, but not so undemanding that I lose focus and slip back into enjoyable moping. Somehow I'd always pictured living through the collapse of civilization as being more dramatic, but I guess the guy who said "not with a bang but a whimper" was on the right track. I used to remember who that guy was, and I could easily find out on the Internet, but somehow I feel that I'll be less inclined to sadness if I don't know so many details about things. Knowing less will be more like sleeping, even though it is sometimes difficult to get to sleep. It might not be difficult this morning, if I go right now. That's what I will do.


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