Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Connecting the Thoughts

My brain is receptive and interpretive in different ways at different times.

Just like you, no doubt.

Sometimes things mean one thing to me, sometimes something else, sometimes nothing at all.

Sometimes the  thoughts connect like thunder.

The alarm clock went off this morning and the first thought - I am talking the very first, instantaneous thought that came out of nowhere while I was barely in the conscious world was - groundhog day.

I thought this is just like the movie groundhog day.

Another goddamn boringly, soul sucking repetitious day. Leading to nothing.

The immediacy of the thought and the fact that it was the first inhabitant of my skull today, left me unnerved.

But not necessarily consciously so.

The feeling just hung there.

Driving to The Asylum, radio on, and "Roadhouse Blues" by The Doors comes on.

I have heard the song 50,000 times. I worship The Doors. They are in the top five of groups that I love ever in my lifetime. Period.

So I own the goddamn song, plus it is played on classic rock radio endlessly.

50,000 times and counting.

"I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer. I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer. The future's uncertain and the end is always near."

The last line, so fatalistic, and the "who gives a shit" attitude of the lines before it, made a direct connection in my fevered brain with the groundhog day discomfort sparked by the goddamn alarm clock.

I heard those lines like I never heard them before.

Five minutes later, and I am not kidding, five minutes later, I got cut off in traffic by a hearse.

A bright, shiny, just been cleaned, fucking hearse.

The guy came out of a side street and apparently decided that his next passenger just could not wait, and that getting behind me would ruin their day.

I followed him for a minute or two until he pulled into the driveway of the funeral home, which is two minutes from The Asylum.

I was a bit spooked by this time.

Maybe I am being dramatic, maybe somebody (me?) is trying to tell me something.

Could have been a meaningful morning, could have been the loose, chemically altered thought process of a diseased brain.

Whatever it was, it was entertaining.

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