The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
The path to restful slumber - also paved in good intentions.
I've been off work for what feels like a month. That's what happens when you tack on some mandatory vacation time to the end of one set and the beginning of another. I think I get something like 11 days off. I don't feel like counting.
I spent four of those days in vegas. Double vodka crans and a side of blackjack. I'd spend my life there if I could. But I imagine I'd end up finding just as little purpose in that, as I tend to find in 'regular' life too. So I struggle to see the point. (Other than the obvious everyone has to have a dream)
So I knew eventually a day would come when I'd hear some off side news about the past returning to the present. I'm not surprised. People come and go to my city every day. And I have no real territorial right to this city. In theory. In practice I'll piss on every street corner that I have to. Or maybe it's the other way around. Who knows.
I should be making more of an effort to sleep. I only have 3 more days before I have to give up on my dream of being a domesticated house wife and return to the working world.
I really have no complaints. I really love my job. I just also really love no alarm clock. So my dedication to finding the appropriate time to slumber is pretty well absent.
So I'll sit still here and ask myself impossible questions about memories and how they form and how they can be removed. Like eternal sunshine only with less camp and more forgetting. Can the possibility of remorse be actually carved out in stone, set to some music. Danced to the outside. Can it be changed to fit whatever I need it to fit. Can I manifest a greed or selfishness out of thin air to just consume me fully so I can brush my consciousness off as some lapse in judgement? Is that a thing? Like breakfast for supper? Can it just be a thing we make trendy and popular and resolve to it just being-that-way?
No.
I suppose not.
Oh well though. You can't fault me for trying.