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Anthony vs. 1:44 A.M.
Mar. 2nd, 2006 01:42 amReasonable men who are ill would be asleep by now. But then, I've never been reasonable.
I hate my mind at times. It moves and bobs and weaves and it won't turn off, even when I need it to. And sometimes I just give up and run with it. But it all moves far too fast, like little bolts of lightning darting from cloud to cloud, fleeting and gone.
I need a recorder hardwired into my brain.
I'm not supposed to be talking today. Or tomorrow. But I've caught myself subvocalizing, or humming, or talking to myself. The Decemberists are dangerous, Joss Whedon commentaries are deadly, and having moments of clarity are deadly.
My brain is inferior. I'm beginning to become convinced of it. I've got an old run down model that is currently running on coal and mulepower, when the rest of the world around me is running on nuclear and biodiesel. Either that or I'm just wired funny. There is so much that I don't get, so much that I can't focus on, and yet, there are days when I get it, grab it and stare and absorb, and then utterly, completely lose focus on it, and watch it fade and retreat into the distance.
Like chasing a train.
One day I shall figure it out. Figure it out, nail it down and just laugh about the whole thing. Until then, I'll have to have these weird, pseudo-pensive, nigh-on meloncholy, late night moments of reflection. I just need to not do them when I'm not running at 100%. I get far too harsh on my own melon.
I hate my mind at times. It moves and bobs and weaves and it won't turn off, even when I need it to. And sometimes I just give up and run with it. But it all moves far too fast, like little bolts of lightning darting from cloud to cloud, fleeting and gone.
I need a recorder hardwired into my brain.
I'm not supposed to be talking today. Or tomorrow. But I've caught myself subvocalizing, or humming, or talking to myself. The Decemberists are dangerous, Joss Whedon commentaries are deadly, and having moments of clarity are deadly.
My brain is inferior. I'm beginning to become convinced of it. I've got an old run down model that is currently running on coal and mulepower, when the rest of the world around me is running on nuclear and biodiesel. Either that or I'm just wired funny. There is so much that I don't get, so much that I can't focus on, and yet, there are days when I get it, grab it and stare and absorb, and then utterly, completely lose focus on it, and watch it fade and retreat into the distance.
Like chasing a train.
One day I shall figure it out. Figure it out, nail it down and just laugh about the whole thing. Until then, I'll have to have these weird, pseudo-pensive, nigh-on meloncholy, late night moments of reflection. I just need to not do them when I'm not running at 100%. I get far too harsh on my own melon.
