September 6, 2002

  • I dislike sleep.  But I do it so well.  So well, in fact, that I’m a designated sleeper.  Like a designated driver, but sleeping instead.  And one of these days, the stimulus will arrive to wake me up.  At least that’s what was promised when I joined *the program*.  “Don’t worry: the day will come when you’ll get your call.”  Oh yeah?  Until then what?  More alcohol?


    To hell with them.  I’ve slept long enough.   Time to emerge from this imposed somnolence by my own beck and call.  I’ll be a renegade like Schwarzenneger in Total Recall.  Rediscovering the me I was expected to forget.  Remembering all the arcane knowledge I once was allowed to collect.  Rebounding to my status as a whiz once again.  Digging the time capsules out of the ground where I’d buried them.  Yep, it’s time.  And past time.


    *opens eyes*


    And the very first thing that I wonder about is why we all don’t know the stars much better than we do.   How many can you name? Maybe one, maybe two?  And why can’t the mind keep track of their precise whereabouts?  Like it’s daytime, yes, but I know that there’s a star in the sky 15 degrees  north of the Sun there .  It’s Regulus (but unseen for the light of the bright one).  And even at night, looking downward and south, if I could see through the earth, I’d see the Southern Cross over there  *points* 


    And may I ask why the hell the military/government has conducted war scenario gaming against projected alien enemies.  Like wtf would you do that for unless you had solid evidence of the possibility... 


    Wake-up Call


    Can I tell my secrets?
    Would anyone believe?
    Probably think I’m talking trashtalk
    and rush quietly to leave...


    I watched the skies as a child
    and, likewise, they watched me:
    every morning at seven a saucer
    I grew accustomed to see.


    Not alarmed, but wondrous I gazed on,
    felt a message emanating my way,
    and was assured that the world was much safer
    and all would be fine on that day.


    Then one day, the visitors left me
    (only once later in life to return).
    Is this world now no longer that safe place--
    or was I taught what I needed to learn?


    Can I utter this bright secret
    and not incur your scorn?
    I was taught:     each and every new day
    is a day when you're once again born.

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The End of Days

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