the inert

today, an epic struggle against the forces of inertia. there are days when I awaken with this indeterminate weight of uncertainty. I eat my oatmeal with protein powder and my banana and swallow my supplements… and then … and then …  there’s all of this directionlessness to ward off, which I seem to manage to do, in spite of me being me.

i celebrated Labor Day by finally sorting through 2 mountains of paperwork stranded on my desk. bills, receipts, cryptic post-it notes, more bills, more receipts, pads of paper with notes written to various friends and waitstaff when I could not speak, stretching exercises, knee strengthening exercises, vocal exercises. copies of exercises, membership expiration notices, mysterious credit cards, reminder notes. vast vast clutter and the thought of how to sort through it… well, i spent nearly a year suppressing that thought. But today, I conquered.

I wanted to celebrate but no one was around to help me celebrate it… which I know must sound self-pathetic, but I say that as an objective fact, with no psyche repercussions whatsoever. It was just curious to me how so many people could not be around to celebrate my accomplishment. But I know they will be there eventually.

Early this a.m., another half-awake half-asleep dream about Bob Dylan. He shows up as a regular visitor to wherever I am living in my dream life. We get along quite well. I feel accepted by him. It’s uncanny.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s