Wildepad
2003-10-18 22:02:40 UTC
I've been told that the most popular sea-sickness remedy carries the
warning label: "May cause nausea."
My doctor has chosen a pharmilo...pharacolm...pharmocolomolo...
pill-pushing approach to my condition (as well as adding a new
diagnosis).
I have six time lags a day -- the interval between when the pills kick
in and when their side-effects kick in.
Ever been awake for 72 hours straight and notice how the world changes
a little bit from moment to moment, slipping in and out of phase? That
effect, but never fully awake, never fully asleep, until they wear
off. A few moments of clarity and it's time to start the rollercoaster
again. Add to this dreams are so real it's hard to tell whether or not
they happened.
My leg is on fire, well, it should be, the salamanders started to eat
it when I fell off the raft, no, I must have been dreaming, again, but
the leg really is on fire and it's creeping up the back. That is all
too real.
Repeat.
A tv show about Paris and I'm there in 1092, an itinerant builder with
infinite powers to build a new city for Philip -- concrete and steel
and walls of glass, but I can't put in a water faucet because they'll
never understand how to use it. Doesn't matter, I'm part of the
English invasion, we're lobbing dead cats over the walls, hoping to
start a plague.
Repeat, repeat.
I've got a laptop that's voice capable. I try to write, but it goes
tsk, tsk all the time. It changes what I type in, chopping it into
short bits. Thrown against the wall, it shatters, but each pieces
reforms into a mini, and they climb back onto the bed, each one key,
its eye a shard of the screen.
Repeat, repeat, endlessly.
warning label: "May cause nausea."
My doctor has chosen a pharmilo...pharacolm...pharmocolomolo...
pill-pushing approach to my condition (as well as adding a new
diagnosis).
I have six time lags a day -- the interval between when the pills kick
in and when their side-effects kick in.
Ever been awake for 72 hours straight and notice how the world changes
a little bit from moment to moment, slipping in and out of phase? That
effect, but never fully awake, never fully asleep, until they wear
off. A few moments of clarity and it's time to start the rollercoaster
again. Add to this dreams are so real it's hard to tell whether or not
they happened.
My leg is on fire, well, it should be, the salamanders started to eat
it when I fell off the raft, no, I must have been dreaming, again, but
the leg really is on fire and it's creeping up the back. That is all
too real.
Repeat.
A tv show about Paris and I'm there in 1092, an itinerant builder with
infinite powers to build a new city for Philip -- concrete and steel
and walls of glass, but I can't put in a water faucet because they'll
never understand how to use it. Doesn't matter, I'm part of the
English invasion, we're lobbing dead cats over the walls, hoping to
start a plague.
Repeat, repeat.
I've got a laptop that's voice capable. I try to write, but it goes
tsk, tsk all the time. It changes what I type in, chopping it into
short bits. Thrown against the wall, it shatters, but each pieces
reforms into a mini, and they climb back onto the bed, each one key,
its eye a shard of the screen.
Repeat, repeat, endlessly.