It must be an omen of some kind to hear 3 Bee Gees songs in one day including an Andy Gibb. That’s like a flush, or something, or being lucky enough to own all the same size of wine glass – it’s like hitting the jackpot. My own personal jackpot of course, but who cares it’s worth points in some alternate universe where falsetto is not annoying, and disco balls don’t cause epileptic seizures after doing insane amounts of cocaine, and cheap golden medallions swimming in chest hair is not creepy. I didn’t even go outside a 1 mile radius of my house…well, except for when I came into town. But, still, what does it all mean to be visited thrice from the Brothers Gibb?
Shit! It’s 12:53 am. Time change, I shake my fists at you!
Will I share a similar fate where I will experience much more disappointment followed by an explosion of success, then followed by more disappointment and obscurity, and later parody. Ooooo, it’s so a roll of the dice; anybody’s guess.
I’m pretty certain that more happened on the day an hour was arbitrarily was lopped off and placed elsewhere. Since then I have been perpetually late, always shocked about the hour when I check the clock, suffering from some odd and rare form of amnesia in regard to where I am and how I got there, and have misplaced some quite valuable IQ points. My spelling and general cognitive processes are limping along to the point where my 6 yr old and my below average students are finishing my sentences and helping to jump-start those “lost my thought” moments.
Things are wacky and misshapen. I feel that I’m in a comedy of errors barring the eloquent dialogue. I’m chasing my tail. My synapses are clogged.
I’m really just trying to carve out some sanity as this reality bends itself based on whether I have ingested too much dairy or really, just choosing to get out of bed each morning. Friends moving, travel plans pending, career disintegrating, and illusions melting.
It’s obvious I’m vitamin deficient.