I got vaccinated for Covid-19 today and i've been trying to write an outline for a script and the side effects were kicking in and so Amanda brought me a cannabis gummy and that seems to have helped but i'm suddenly feeling very high and
i can't think of anything to write
but
if i think of something later i will write it.
Higher than the pilot light of a hot air balloon in both temperature and geographical y-axis i allowed a friend to sweet-talk me into live streaming a continuous static shot of Amanda and i consuming a pizza. The pizza was ordered from a high-profile slop shop with a point-and-click button menu on the web site. Amanda had suggested LA Lasagna but their online order form doesn't work, i always have to call them, and in my post-articulate post-cognizant post-post-post human current countenance i did not think i could successfully complete the task. So to dredge again to the deep deep depths of surrender required to acquiesce to the flimflam deck of dreck that is this chain pizza parlor. We've sworn to cease our our association with this association this station of low motivation this house of ill repute, and pizza. But when you can't speak human. They have buttons.
I thought that introduction that dramatic lead up was very important to the story before i typed it and while i was typing it but as it turns out i've forgotten the connective tissue, the step that leads to the step that leads us from there to where i really want to go, to the story, to the story i want to tell.
As the pizza waned and Amanda started fading from consciousness the dogs started becoming insistent that they needed to get out, to get some fresh air, to tarnish that fresh air with their scents. Their excrements. And it seemed pretty early for their Last Run (tm) of the night but i took them out anyway. And Zuul came out of the portal through the hedge surrounding our patio, and down the paving stones, until they end, just one stone shy of where the path would reach the street. And she pees in that vacant premises, the hole in the pattern, the grassy foot where a flat rock should be. Every night. And when she finishes, she proceeds away to the right, near another hedge, near the electrical boxes. And she sniffs around, investigates, really feels the place out. Meanwhile Copper is free, unconstrained by a leash, allowed to roam the strip of green which is our lawn, a lawn we share with the community. This may. not be recommended etiquette with a dog, but Copper's a good boy, and we only do this with him when it's dark out and unlikely other dogs or people or humans will pass by. I don't even wear my mask most of the time on Last Run (tm). Despite the, you know, the global health pandemic that we live right in one of the hottest hot spots on Earth of. Covid-19. I'm talking about Covid-19.
And so as we trot back the other direction, i realize perhaps too late that i've neglected to keep track of the spot where Zuul urinated earlier. I may have already walked through it. But i wanted to find out if i had or not. So i tried to figure out, relatively, where i remembered the pee squat occurring, taking place, happening. And the relative zone where my own foot falls had previously tracked. And as i tried to make sense of these two data points, the perfect number of points of data to create a beautiful line, i contemplated how to determine what this meant. As in if i had trod the spot. Where the pee was. With my shoes. My sandals. My not-shoes. Which i was wearing with socks. You know, like that meme-y fashion faux pas everyone talks about. But it was dark and it was Last Run (tm) so i didn't think anyone would notice my fashion foul.
They didn't. It's not a red herring, it's just poor writing.
It's not foreshadowing either but you already figured that out.
The Zapruder film has a 74% on Rotten Tomatoes.
So i knew i'd need to use math to figure out if i had walked in piss. And as my brain tried to parse the entire concept of math, the only thing it came up with was
coefficient
as if coefficients are math, all math, they are the only math that maths. Coefficient is math.
as if that.
All i could think was coefficients. And i kept walking the dog around the yard, trying to remember how a coefficient is supposed to help keep me pee free. And i thought about writing that down. Writing my musings on using math, using coefficients, to locate pee that was four, six hours old by now.
Oh yeah time is moving very slowly today. Can you tell if i'm moving at a normal speed for a human? I need to record this so i can see later if i'm moving at normal speed because i keep trying to move faster and i can't. Everything is in either slow motion or super slow motion.
And in my mind as i walked the dog, i wrote this entire blog. I wrote out my musings on the pee math and on the celebration of this holiday that we've never partaken of even though it's been on Amanda's birthday ever. single. year. as if it was planned that way. Or as if dates were fixed points in time which occurred annually. As if calendars existed only because dates happen at prearranged and preconceived points the same time every single year. Dates do not move. They're in the same order every single year. Except that rascal February 29th.
And in my mind i forgot this entire blog. So this is not at all what i had pre-planned to type once i got inside. In fact i'm pretty sure the original blog, which i wrote, in my mind, and then apparently deleted accidentally because it's not there anymore. Once i sat down at the Blogger interface, i had to start from scratch, to write something entirely new. And i've been writing for three hours now and yet it's only twenty-eight minutes later. Wow, 28 minutes? How has this actually taken so long? My slow-speed time is speeding up because i do not understand how it could have possibly taken 28 minutes to come up with the stupid useless bullshit words that i've vomited carelessly upon this page, this virtual page, these pixels which represent a page. That's too many minutes. Probably because i keep bopping off to alternate universes to live entire lives, birth school work death, and then return to this earth to find it's only fifteen seconds later. Like The Inner Light. A Star Trek episode i would recommend to non-Star Trek fans to find out if they like Star Trek.
I feel like this is going really well.
Anyway my original blog post, in my mind, was only two paragraphs long anyway so this probably turned out better.
I'm not entirely sure that was my intended ending for this story but i'm going to stop typing now. There was a rhythm, a flow, a meter to the first paragraph or two of this post that i just dropped as i got further down. I was thinking about recording a video of me reading it in an old-timey detective voice but i don't think the whole post is doable like that anymore.
It's lost to me like that bridge from the setup to the story itself.
Punchline.
I think Amanda enjoyed her birthday today. I took her shopping for hammock stands, we got some really great sushi (The Lion King roll from O Sushi is incredible), and then shopping for new running shoes. After that, we went home and set up the hammock stand. I got a bunch of friends to sing Happy Birthday to her via video call, and we spent some time talking to Zia afterward. I made a little video of her enjoying her hammock, finally set up.
Now we are celebrating the actual national holiday for the first time in our lives. Amanda's on the phone with Anna right now, she missed the singing. I think we'll finish the night playing a board game.
I'm really high right now. I'm approaching the part where i travel through time. I always want to write things when i'm high but i haven't done it yet.
This doesn't seem coherent.
