the doom clock…

the doom clock…

(stream of consciousness, written in one sitting, kind like a diary I guess)

I worked late the past two nights, well, late for most, late for me, we have to upgrade stores after they close to interfere as little as possible with their operation (regardless of how this interferes with me, my life, such as it is), so returning from East Harlem and New Rochelle (which was ground zero for covid if you recall) at past 2am has been the norm, I live in central Jersey so the ride is straight, and easy, aside from the construction which is like the boogeyman of Jersey night driving, so you finally get home, and I am not one to flip a switch, I wish, I wish I could just lay my head down on the pillow, without a twitch, but no, some inner itch, I suppose I amp myself up to be awake and aware while I work which takes time to wear off, and it does, plus being outside the usual circadian cycle, that certainly does not help, I tune into some meditative binaural beats or isochronic tones, or both, with the dream of sleep, it the not so distant hours, but sometimes you know, you just know this is not going to happen, and once that ball starts rollin’ around your noggin naggin’, well…
the hours seem to click by, on nights like these, sleepless nights, taunted by the glowing red block numbers that seem to strobe-flash like late night traffic signals, 3:00, 3:30, 4:00, 4:04, 4:09, 4:12 each toss and turn aside the glaring numbers preside, sowing the seeds of pre-defeat for the next day… will I ever fall asleep, before day-break, for that seems the worst feeling of all… and maybe I do catch a z or two, in-between the peekaboo, but certainly not a satisfying romp into rem sleep mode… and then the bleating-heart alarm clock…

a shower and a shave, charcoal toothpaste stains the basin, I’m not racing, but I am not taking my time either, hop in the car, pop on the heated seat and some morning schlock-jocks discussing sports, not the time for serious thought, just noise as I begin down the road…
I am not sure what this is, maybe over tired, over compensating, seeing the sun for the first time in a few cycles it seems, charging forward in my lane like a charging bull, the highway pavement blanched from the leftover brine-dust of a forgotten storm that barely was, there is a mysterious smoky mountain range looming in the distance that I never noticed before, well, because this is merely clouds, I prefer to pretend the mystery mountain trend instead, and I take a moment to fill out a survey to myself, I did not fall prey to the doom of the clock, that awful count-up from staying up (choice or not), nor did the seeds of a bad day, make their way, and germinate in my mind like vines choking a wrought iron fence, no, not today.

why this tune ? because it was playing and inspired me @ the time during my drive…
that sunset grin.

that sunset grin.

Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

so there I was…
riding off into the sunset, um, ok, driving into the sunset, coming back from my first covid test, been lucky to avoid the arrows until now but a couple of coworkers tested positive so these are the times we are living in, enough about that really, more about the sunset, sure, we are not talking shoreline paradise here, route 1 south in edison nj, but somehow, someway all that dropped south of my view, a really nice near perfect orange half a globe sitting there on the horizon, I must have been travelling near due west, well, maybe slightly to the left, this time of year the light is not blinding, well, mostly, so I was literally driving into the sunset, a smile came upon my face, I mean, if this was my last moment, why not go out with a grin, I can’t complain about my time, sure, I would like more, and probably have plenty more, but some day, sooner than I can contemplate, the world will be tired of me, and fate will dial up my number one last time, so why not do it with a grin?

I merge onto the garden state, just to jump a couple of exits rather than deal with all the local lights, I need only stay in the right lane, not even a mile once I am on, why in the world is their traffic at this hour, ah, I can just wait it out, it is not bumper to bumper but is certainly not the open flow I was expecting to go, I could jump a lane over, ah, c’mon man, relax, not that far to go, apparently not for some of those in front of me, jumping ships, or lanes and then I see it, my exit and also the slow culprit, what are the odds they are getting off at my exit? ahhh, you’ve seen this movie before, me too, 990% chance they are going my way, thankfully I am still wearing my sunrise smile and am just amused at the situation, other days maybe, other days I might have lit up like a firecracker enraged, but today? nah, lucky him, well, I can’t say him, in fact, the car in front of me looks quite empty, whomever is driving is tiny, or invisible, probably just short, I know it can’t be an automated car, to my recollection late 90’s corrollas did not come with that feature, now, off my exit there is two ways you can go, of course slowrolla is going my way (turn signal? not so much), I am laughing now, I am not sure if the people behind me are as amused but, hey, this is my blog story man, get your own! of course the first right is my turn… and the auto car turns, of course, I finally lose the person (assumption, you never know) near the home stretch, only a couple of more turns to go… I suppose I missed the baton hand off, because slowrolla has a relative, or a cohort, a partner in this crime, with a mercedes SUV, at least this looks occupied, and it also occupies the whole road, I never understood compensating for parked cars by driving on the wrong side of the road, must be me, on some other day I might be loosing my mind, but today? I’m in on the joke it seems, the slowcedes turns off literally the street before mine, “here ya go, a little scrap a tidbit” the world says to me as at least the way to my driveway was clear, I park, shake my head for a second at the absurdity, and retire inside to write this piece, still with that dumb grin shellacked on my face, from that sun that has gone under by the time this is done.

notes… not just because this post is Epic, well. it probably isn’t, but I am just on a FNM kick lately, Angel Dust is my jam, one of the best weird albums ever made that kind of made in mainstream.. of course I am partial to Mr. Bungle but what do I know…