Saturday, March 19, 2011

Sometimes you're already gone.

I wonder if there's a word for feeling like the world has shrunken down into something the size of a peephole. Suddenly takes on the sound of a chattering television - only the way that chattering sounds in film. Or the way radio sounds on television. A medium of a medium.


It's kind of like looking through the wrong end of the binoculars. But from above. Everything feels small and moves just a clip faster than normal. It's all unimportant. All the decision we make - Jesus, we make so many decisions on a daily basis, and we think they're so fucking crucial. So critical to something that will change the course of history, ecology, theology.

Through the peephole, you can't even see these decisions. Not only can't you see them, but you can't even see the people or places or animal that all these crucial decisions impact. It's a mission from above. Everything is a blur of color, crowding around itself like microscopic germ clusters on a smear.



Am I dissociating? Sometimes I wish it would last longer. It lasts an hour, two. I guess if it did last any longer it might be formula for sociopathy. I wonder if this is what the world looks like to someone with no feeling. That would suck, too. But it is nice to be able to detach though, to pull back, to feel so less tortured about every little thing in your head.

Then you come back to big life in regular slow-motion. And even your dreams take on the big-life form of being carjacked and trying to negotiate with the guy in the driver's seat. Trying to come up with a good reason why he shouldn't take the most basic machine you depend on. And then you're on his little side of the binoculars. Futile. Small. Laughable.

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