rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Reset Seventeen, Day Fourteen

I don't recall the exact hour, but it was well before midnight Monday, when I felt the sudden need for a nap. I expected it to last until perhaps two o'clock in the morning, but but it ended up lasting, off and on, until after five. I guess I'm awake for the day now, which is probably not a good thing.

That first few minutes after finally waking, but not yet realizing that it was a full awakening, there was that period of thoughts scattering like scraps of paper in a whirlwind— grab that one— no, that one— too late, they're gone. And then the odd and unexpected appeared; my mind suddenly settled on a series of images from the first New Orleans season of MTV"s The Real World. Where the hell did that come from? Of all the thoughts I might have seized on, why that?

But there they were: seven strangers picked to live in a house... I Googled to see when it was, and it was 2000. Twenty freaking years ago. I couldn't remember the names of any of them, and the physical images were rather vague, but scraps of dialog and fragmentary incidents bubbled up in my mind's eye, which in turn triggered memories of lying on the floor in front of the television with my cat, Dude, napping on top of me, the quiet world of doomed Paradise slumbering outside, and the image of that moment was as clear as if it had happened moments before. Other memories and thoughts were triggered, and then another gust of thought wind whirled them away to loss like more sad scraps of paper, spinning out of reach, now mixed with thin tongues of flame.

My whole life, and all I've known, bits of trash flying off into darkness. I got out of bed. Inexplicable, and a perfect way to start the new day.
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