CAUTION - Thoughts Crossing

There is nothing better for a man, than that he should eat and drink, and that he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour. This also I saw, that it was from the hand of God

 

And then my mind left the room. Just like that. Without nary a goodbye, it simply got up and walked out. It was right after that astounding moment when the words "removing variability from upstream operations that are inputs to a process will yield defect-free outputs" were uttered from the mouth of the speaker. I think it was the shock that made my mind leave. Up until that moment, things were going, well...peachy. The drone of the speaker on the conference call had lulled me into a sense of secure quietness. My mind had curled up into a corner and proceeded to fall asleep. It was that one-eye-open-ear-twitching kind of sleep much like the family pet that tries to stay alert in case Grandpa was to step on it's tail. Or fart. My hand wandered aimlessly as I left-clicked, left-clicked, left-clicked my way around the world. Occasionally I would throw in a right-click or even a quick scroll-wheel down followed by a series of left-clicks just to make sure my mind wouldn't lapse into a complete comatose state. That would be inconvenient.

And then the words were spoken and my mind woke up and left.

It was cold this morning. The temperature gauge said -14C in it's usual dead pan way. Measurement of cold on your skin is calculated by how the air feels against it. Wind chill factors were absolutely giddy at -21C. The wipers were frozen to the windshield. The shock absorbers were frozen by apathy and the fact that they were close to the end of their hurried lives. I felt like a bobble head inside a clothes dryer on the drive to work.  
They're taping magnets to crocodiles heads to keep them from returning to a South Florida neighborhood. I can see it now. Frenzied crocs stuck to cars whizzing down the highway. Yes, that's one way to stop them from returning isn't it?

It's Fat Tuesday which can only mean one thing. Carnival in Rio and Mardi Gras in New Orleans. And in the spirit of fatness, from the department of "I've never seen one's as big as that before!" I leave you with the following image.

I am listless. I need a list. There is no order in my life.
I scrubbed the toilet, the bath tub, the sink. I got down on my knees and wiped the ceramic floor. I vacuumed, fixed the vacuum cleaner, replaced three old electric outlets with new black ones. I've shoveled the driveway and the back yard terrace. His hair was white as snow. It's a biblical reference to purity and light. Why do these ecclesiastical thoughts pop into my head at seemingly the most curios times.

I swept the hardwood floors, cleaned the furnace air filters and the litter box. I went shopping for groceries, but since I did not have a list, I wondered up and down each aisle like a misguided grocery ranger staring at each item with a mixture of suspicion and awe. Why are there so many different types of cream of corn? Have you seen the selection of yogurts? I am convinced there is a dairy conspiracy. Are we being milked?



The cat is a purring, vibrating hot water bottle. It's cold outside. It is cold inside too. The temperature outside is plummeting like a hawk towards some unfortunate prey. It warmed up enough to melt most of the snow off the roads. But now the wind screams like a banshee in heat as it tries desperately to claw it's way between the crack in the door frame. It's the same wind that's driving a cold front, flogging the air mercilessly to sub-zero temperatures. I suppose I should get up and fix the door it but it's not on the list. Besides, the cat is too comfortable.
But not as comfortable or warm as her presence. I call her my shadow. Shadows exist only in the presence of light. A light that shines simply when the phone rings at odd times and her voice breaths hello.
I have to make an appointment for an oil change and cancel another appointment. I have a blood test some time this week. I forgot to pickup cream for coffee and razor blades. I need a list.

12:24

   I cannot shut down my mind. Like an old black & white reel, jagged fragments of my day spool in an endless loop. Images crackle and jump accompanied by snippets of conversations and random thoughts.

It is as quiet as death and dark as a womb. The silence so complete that the only sound is the soft rush of air from the furnace through the floor vent. The drapes billow outward, the fabric quivering ghost-like along the warm draft. It reminds me of the days as a little boy, playing hide and seek. Secured by the innocence of a child, I believed that I had blended into the curtains, despite the fact that my feet were still visible. I would stand as still as I could, trying to control my panting, with the damp heat of my breath washing back onto my face. My chest would hurt. The hurried anticipation would slither down to my crotch and I would almost cry with the insane urge to pee. Sometimes the soft touch of the curtains across my face would give me an erection, my small cock pushing urgently against my shorts. Embarrassment, stirred with passion would flush over me as I hear my sisters footsteps approach.

Then the fridge starts up again, it grumbles and rattles to life in a violent penetration of the senses. The sound annoys me. It has interrupted a rather interesting segment of the movie in my head. I am straddled across the chest of The First. Her breasts cushion my buttocks like a velvet cushion on a throne. Her eyes are closed, her mouth thrown open. Stroking myself against her shimmering tongue and lips. The drone of the toy undulates between loud to soft adding a harsh soundtrack to the performance being acted out in the dimmed light of this bedroom. I start to get an hard again, this time bigger and harder than that of the little boy in the curtains so many years ago.

I reach between my shorts. The bed is cold. As frigid and lifeless as a morgue. The sheets are stiff and unwieldy as if they were brought inside from the crisp winter night outside. My erection softens almost immediately, hastened by the emptiness and indifference of the empty bed. Loneliness is enveloping. Solitude a quiet companion until she returns. It never used to be this way. Once upon a time, solitude would comfort me like the arms of a friend. But her constant presence has been a familiar practice. Like wriggling your toes. Her laugh, her voice, her scent. She is a habit I am unwilling to break. A customary routine that is part and parcel of my day.

If you drive a late model Honda Accord, chances are you are an idiot. If the windows are tinted, you qualify for a free upgrade to fucking moron.

Gnosiophobia is the fear of knowledge.

I'm afraid of the gnome that lives under my bed. He gnaws all night and messes with my head.

Alpha or Omega?