The whole song.
YOU KNOW WHAT?
Fuck it. I'm in. You got me, show. You got me good. You know, I have been feeling super weird for weeks, drinking at odd hours and acting out on Facebook, turning shit in late, thinking the whole time there was some kind of psychological thing I was about to face. None of the old tricks were working: Dreaming about twice as much, trying to get there that way, no dice, it's all six-months-ago, scene of the crime stuff, nothing moving forward. Nothing I don't already know, or have already set aside for autumn.
So, Step Two: Sending emails back and forth with Drunk Jacob. He usually gives pretty good advice -- as well as excellent gifts, and song recommendations -- but he was blustery and thought it was about guys, which I knew it wasn't. I'm so not into that right now. But it kind of felt like that, like I'd been fired, or been through a breakup, or moved to a new city. Everything feeling transitional, even though I'm not really wanting for a change, as far as I know.
Then it's like Threat Level Absolute, my phone starts blowing up with randos I haven't seen in years, and every time I go to a movie I'm sitting a seat or two away from an ex -- this has happened several times in the last week, I'm not shitting you -- and I thought, "Maybe I'm going to get hit by a Walmart truck or something, and this is just me closing up shop, or all these synchronicities will make sense suddenly, and I'll be at a coffee machine and suddenly remember that I'm supposed to be with Sawyer and then instantly die in the sideways universe." Right? You know what I mean?
But mostly I just assumed it was the usual thing, a story I need to write or like a lack of zinc in my diet or somebody I love is about to come out with some dreadful secret. Some other unanswered equation my little brain is working hard on without my knowledge. So once I figure out the question that'll be the end of it, because that's always the end of it, because that's really all it ever is. I don't do depression or cyclic shit like that, I just sometimes get weird vibes and become a hassle for everybody and eventually the blister pops when I figure it out, and hopefully write some of it down.
...But nope. Not this time, brain. I think this time I was being altered, prepared, perhaps in my very DNA, so that when I watched this episode of Bunheads I wouldn't go berserk and run through a plate-glass window or go decorate my neighbor's house for Christmas in the middle of the night, just out of the sheer bath-salt zombie weirdness. So I guess thanks. Thanks for being so utterly batshit crazy that I actually had to time-travel backwards, in time. To make sure that my body was ready.