Wednesday, January 12, 2011

time machine

i am watching the sun set from my penthouse suite in flattened fort pierce, florida. it seems to be lasting an eternity, quite unlike those of mostly-flattened albany, new york. and it is wonderful.

albany sunsets—like most things in life—begin—as we know it will—unexpectedly—as we know it does—and are beautiful—as we know they certainly well can be. then—without warning—they disappear into the night. albany sunsets—unlike most things in life—return—predictably—some 23.5 hours later; most beautiful things in life—if repeatable—rarely repeat with such predictable consistency.

but this is not the subject of this little rant—it is merely an observational aside as i open a new document—blank, full of opportunities.

as i spend this week in sunny—though now, cold—florida, i cannot help but be reminded of california. perhaps because the last time i was here, my next destination was not albany, but california. also, it is undeniable that i miss california. i miss placentia, where my best friend lived. i miss his girlfriend, and talking about gaga. i miss downtown fullerton, where the girls—though often horrific in appearance—are as talkative and persistent as albany bros. and that is a nice change.

as i listen to gaga, and watch the sunset, i cannot help but reminded of this glamorous nightlife of which i often find myself fantasizing. wearing a casual, well-fit suit from h&m. at some vegas casino, or some socal club. cocktail in hand. loud music bumping. sun going down. i know not why sunsets and certain music conjures these images in my brain, but they do. i know not why my brain instinctively desires such experiences, but it does.

this here has no point. i am simply exploring a thought aloud. this has achieved nothing that i can detect, though it is nice to finally get this peculiarity out. its been poking in and out of my consciousness for months now.


today, i continued to feel like i was in a different place and time, as i have consistently felt during my stay in florida thus far. i believe it is california, circa january 2010, that my brain feels i am. i believe it thinks this because of the warmth, the angle of daytime sunlight, the music i’ve been listening to, and not to mention, tonight’s sunset.

this condition is something i have been more or less afflicted with since july of 2008. i don’t necessarily call it an affliction in the traditional sense—although it certainly could become one, as i discuss below.

i have written of this before in a different place, and i will be brief. during my internship in albany, i went to one of my most favorite, restorative locales in the region as a part of what i will call a mini ‘field trip’ implemented by the program director. while at this place, sights, words, and sounds all came rushing back to me. i literally felt like the chemical environment of my brain was drained and replaced with one from a previous time—circa july of 2007. this was a bad time in my life, but the time i was reminded of in particular was not so bad. this experience set in motion my eventual discovery of some of the fundamental things in my near-to-everyday life that are essential to my wellbeing, happiness, and basic motor and nervous function. and i had no idea, at the time, that all of these things would be discovered via being reminded of a time a year prior in which my life as literally crumbling around me—as i drowned in expensive rum and cheap beer. irony.

since then, i find that—more often than not—i am commandeering any semblance of natural ambient stimulation and replacing it with a carefully crafted collection of sounds, images, and places—one perhaps complimenting a physically encountered other. which is to say, for example, i will go to certain places at certain times of the year and listen to certain music while there. sometimes, new places and sounds are associated with certain times of year, and those will be included in my arsenal of ‘whatevers’. sensory blasters? experience augmenters? experience repeaters?

i know not what to name it, but the last suggestion gets back to where this could be an affliction. you see: for the most part, it is comforting. although all things change at an awfully unpredictable rate, i can make my own little, silent rituals and implement certain ones at certain times in order to give some sort of comforting repetition to my life. comforting in that where i am and what i am listening to are comforting, and comforting in that repetition can be relieving when life is falling apart, revealing the ever-present backdrop of stagnation and unpredictable depravity.

however, what of when life decides to progress? will these little comforting rituals—routine, by now—impede the development of new relationships, new directions? is it possible that always recreating environments of the past—though for comfort—are preventing me from taking the initiative to create something new and move forward? i do not know. though the thought occurred to me today when i acknowledged that i am on a vacation in florida, but feel like i am in california, a year earlier. though the glimmer of comfort (and this time, i know not for what reason) is nice, it would be great to actually feel like my mind is present where my body is—and not just along for the ride—and is registering the time as new memories of a recent vacation, not just as a rapidly dissipating cloud of dreams.

i could be overanalyzing this because i am thinking about this for the first time. alternatively, i could be actively debating a potential flaw in my mental design—which would be one of millions, i can guarantee you.

i have no eloquent way to end this.

until next time, kiddies.

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