i feel like i have been here before. “and yes, i know this seems to happen to me a lot.”
the snow piles up outside. i am hunkered down inside. there is beer and food in the fridge—wine, too. there is coffee brewing. my video game console is primed for use. billy talent is playing on my stereo. the only thing that is missing is my ex-roommate. the only thing that is different is that i am in albany, as opposed to oneonta—and i have plenty of cream for my coffee, this time.
this is yet another pleasant trip back in time as the same electrical patterns that made up my brain then, are recreated now. that’s how memories work. and i am convinced that memories are simply vehicles for time travel.
my body may be in my apartment right now, but nothing else is.
and that goes for my sex drive, too. it took off—without my knowledge or consent—to the fourth dimension. i asked my sex drive why it felt the need to leave this perfectly good space. it replied, “i wanted to get put to some use.” that’s as good an excuse as any for me. “you are no saint,” it said, “but i may as well be.” noted.
anyway: three years ago, upstate new york was hit with a snowstorm that cancelled classes for three days. it was an important week. and as we get hit with another class-canceling snowstorm, i cannot help being reminded of that time and be filled with the desire for imminent activity and change that i had back then.
my life needs a reboot.