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I feel like... - Wild Kingdom
"Nothing Is What It Seems..."
epicurean_envoy
wild_kingdom
epicurean_envoy
I feel like...
I feel like one of those individually-wrapped single-serving meatless-meat entrees. You could find me in the frozen food section of your local grocery store.

Not that I am cold. I'm not. It's currently 77F. That's 25 to the rest of the world. My ego-centric-American mind grumbles in the background about how unfair it is... just writing the temperature in Celsius makes it feel cooler... and it's incredibly unfair that the cherry on top is that I can spell Celsius without the help of Bill's spell-checker.

Warmed up, micro-waved, nuclear meltdown of flesh. Turning slowly 'round in tight little circles, perfectly aligned in the center so as to heat equally on all sides. The walls revolve around me.

I am the product of Betty Crocker and Jimmy Dean. Jimmy Dean makes me ill and Betty Crocker hates me.

I am so full of air that I don't have to swim any more. I am so dense of matter I could sink through the floor at any moment. I am at permanent stand-by for a complete shut down in five... in four... in three...

My dreams are filled with emergencies that I need rescued from. The boat is slowly sinking and will be submerged in about 15 minutes. The plane is going down. The tide is coming in and we won't be able to remain on the rocks any longer.

My dreams are filled with discussions of how the wind has changed so that the vog is blowing this way now, filling my head with cotton, stuffing my sinuses with a bad taste, plugging my ears with the gentle maddening relentless coos of rock-doves.

I can feel my pulse in the blood that rushes to my hands when I let them fall to my sides. I push the chaotic thoughts out of my head. Take a pill for my sinuses. Drink a diet soda to wake up before the pill pulls me to my bed again. Quick fix, that's for me. Cure in a bottle, in a can. Turn the can in and you can get 5 cents back. It's almost like money for nothing.

Maybe my subconsciousness has it right... I wake up at 1am, 3am, 5am... it doesn't matter, the melody is still the same. The quoki frogs and cicadas and chickens and dogs all sing the same melody. My brain doesn't know all the words but that doesn't matter either because I only need to know one fragment of it. That's all the world sings any more anyway... just the fragment... the rest of the song is just the filler between repeats of the refrain:

It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
And I feel fine.

Current Mood: crappy

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