I suspect I’ve been hanging around with the wrong crowd, myself included, lately.
Last night sloping off to bed, silently and inwardly I repeated three things I needed to remember.
Waking several times in the night (I always do), these key items remained lodged in the front of my brain. I may even have spoken them aloud.
Dawn peering in, I could recall only two.
The first concerned Jane’s driving log; I must record and total the hours.
Next, I had to make corrections on some outstanding work “deliverables.”
Third item vanished entirely. I thought it would soon return, tap me on the shoulder, but by half a day later it hadn't.
If depression is “anger turned inward,” you can excise these people from the depressives list, while simultaneously crossing the road and taking cover against incoming fire.
These missing thought reconstruction efforts set my mind wandering and pondering a dozen different “what if?” scenarios derived from my real and imagined life, or broken impossible aspects of it.
Dashed aspirations, sundered friendships, lost loves, inchoate debts and unpaid bills followed each other around and through the revolving door.
Finally, finally, I was left with partial, superficial, but persisting impressions that were probably mere shadow simulacra of mirror images existing in other dimensions.
Stepping back from the mirror, turning away, I remembered that old Firesign Theater paradox: “How can you be in two places when you’re not anywhere at all.”
The morning was straight downhill, a long way.
Firesign Theater: How Can You Be In Two Places At Once When You're Not Anywhere At All? (Link)