Tentatively Horizontal
“How Will They Get Along Without Me?”
Once I began to sleep a little better, I started having intense dreams. Some were disturbing, like a grassy depression in the earth at one of the poles wherein a heap of circular bones lay. Others were encouraging, like one in which I put my head in a special bucket full of some restorative fluid. Someone turned a lever and cranked the stuff around, sending waves of optimism into me.
Eventually this column will evolve into a more coherent expression. Either that, or it will become yet another vehicle for my goofy one-page stories.
“Your stories make no sense,” somebody will comment. I know who this someone is.
I’m sort of in limbo at the moment. Maybe one more day and I’ll have a really good sleep. When I woke up today after the head-in-the-bucket dream I got out of bed going, “Wow. Wow. Wow,” out loud. I don’t feel particularly inspired or motivated at the moment, but at least I’m not totally paralyzed by depression.
I’ve been listening to a lot of music during this “convalescence.” I discovered a Herbie Hancock record in the last 24 hours called “Dedication.” I’d never heard of it before. Sometimes you find exactly what you need when you need it. I think if I’d never taken drugs I wouldn’t feel so out-of-sorts right now. The similarity between my present state and the feeling when you’re out of some kind of dope is just too much. It’s creepy. It’s like being in a strange Laundromat in the middle of the night.
I said in an earlier column that I’ve been listening to Donald Fagen lately. I wonder how much existential trauma that guy’s been through. Long before David Letterman went off the air I had stopped watching during to my schedule. I found a clip of Fagen performing “Weather in My Head” on Letterman. I couldn’t believe how old Dave looked. Anyway, Letterman comes up to Fagen after the performance and asks how he is. After a brief consultation with himself, Fagen replies, “I’m wonderful.”
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