Solitary

It's last week and I am here - in solitary. Have been here a month or longer, or shorter. Have lost comprehension of time, which depends on a changing from dark to light and rhythms of circadia or something...but there is not a single photon in this tomb. And, yet somehow I have convinced myself that my eyes have adjusted and can now see shadows and movement. And even if that is not possible, does it much matter when alone like this? You either actually see them or create them in your head, all the same. Plato?

And there is someone reading Ecclesiastes to me, or at me.

I realize my peripheral vision is better on my right than left and that my hearing is opposite, better on the left. And I can still remember the words to ‘Soup’ - "...you gotta do your best to decorate this dying day..." - and how Shannon Hoon laughs in between God Damn's at the end of 'The Pusher'. And how Mozart leaves that fucking single note hanging above everything and my favorite reaction to a good song, from my boy, "Thank God for this guy". And how 'Gagging Order' left my brother and I like salivating dogs the first time we heard it and, and, and...

I am able to count while listening to the verse while carrying another, separate thought on some unrelated historic detail while holding onto the overarching thought that my mind is doing three (four?) things at once. And I can remember the smell of my wife. Her signature scent.

I am most myself at this instant; have always been when all alone - too weak for otherwise - I think we all are. I always thought time alone healthy for the mind - to think without distraction; distractions created by oneself, to be sure. But this much time alone and inside the head has taken toll. The past and future are running amok in the walls of my skull, as they always have, probably should have an ulcer. I have never actually thought about right now…ever. During zero right nows have I been considering them. And a deep breath down here lasts a day anyway.

...a chasing after the wind.