Right now I'm feeling...I'm not sure, Restless, for lack of a better word, but it's more emotional than physical. It like I'm almost feeling something, or trying to feel something, and I have no idea what or why. I tried pacing and talking to see if that helped, and I quickly got locked into my stress grin. Again, don't know why. Mouth doesn't want to talk. Don't know why. Maybe this restlessness is anticipation for tonight. It'll be the last time I see the Dreamers for who-knows-how-long.
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with th' pale cast of thought
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
Ooookay. I rattled off "To be or not to be" just now to get my mouth back in a talking state. First half was reluctant to come (not in terms of memorization, but that it was so easy just to trail off), and then the above lines really stood out for whatever reason.
Tick tock. Birds chirp. Someone a few houses away is using a power tool. The house feels small.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
Easier to write right now than to talk. A car flits through my peripheral vision. First seen and not heard, then heard and not seen. Restless. Dog barks. Someone claps. Wind rustles leaves. Rustling. Memories of America Abridged bubble up.
Past the point of no return
No backward glances
Our games of make-believe are at an end
Past all though of if or when
No use resisting
Abandon thought and let the dream descend
What raging fire shall flood the soul
What rich desire unlocks this door
What sweet seduction lies before us
Past the point of no return
The final threshold
What warm unspoken secrets will we learn
Beyond the point of no return
What will my brain spit up next? Casablanca?
Be on the way to Berkeley in an hour. This time I know where I'm actually going.
Bill Nighy the Squidface Gighy
Bill Nighy the Squidface Gighy
Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill!
Bill Nighy the Squidface Gighy
*guitar* Calypso... *more guitar*
Bill Nighy the Squidface Gighy
One soul is not equal to another!
Bill Bill Bill Bill Nighy the Squidface Gighy
Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! (T-minus seven seconds)
Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill!
Bill Nighy the Squidface Gighy!
Brought to you by...Krakens!
They'll suction your face clean off!
...And that is what my brain did this morning. If you need to ask why, you don't know me vewwy well, do you?
And now for something completely different. *publishes post and leaves*
No comments:
Post a Comment