Bookmark #923

I lie on the couch with my foot propped onto the armrest, making a temporary sling, exhausted out of my wits and bones. It has been a day chock-full of activity. So have the ones before it, and as far as I can look back I see endless activity. But again, my memory is the most unreliable clerk, meticulously writing down the most absurd, the most unnecessary details but failing to recall anything in proper order or of right importance. But for all my limitations, I see eventfulness: bars overflowing with people sitting shoulder to shoulder, brunches in the brightest, most sunlit cafes there ever were, turfs of grass and feet clamouring for a ball, strangers, strangers, strangers, and chance encounters. I guess things could not be better than this, and if they were any better, I would be suspicious of them. I would keep an eye on them, and like a guard working the night shift in a museum, I would do it with half a heart* and full tilt. I would chase the slightest of sounds, not because I would want to, but out of proactive procrastination. Not looking after a problem often turns it into a bother, and who wants that?

That is how I would look after it all and so, this is why things should not get any better from where they are, for I would not want the panic and the uneasiness. Not that they will get better. To paraphrase someone who has who I am down to the last detail: I am an unlucky bastard. In the soft daze of sleep coming on, I can but confirm this and do it with all my heart. There has been, I believe, a component of unluckiness to this life, and for all that Fortuna has spilt on me, and she sure has spilt a lot, she has taken in equal measure in the form of simple denial. They often say not everyone can have it all. I wager this life is a prime example, or it looks like it from where I stand—or lie, in this case, there is no energy left in me to stand tonight, which, again, is a good thing. And with that excuse, like the guard at the museum, I must doze off. I must end the day to wake up with the morning light and pretend like I stayed up with my eyes peeled.

* Half-heartedness. It is a funny way to think about distraction. I wonder who came up with it.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here