Saturday, March 19, 2005

we spies, we slow hands

This will probably sound obvious, but when you get laid up for months at a time you really lose touch. Not just with people and current events, but with everything. The world. The neighborhood. Reality.

Lacking some sort of grounding connection to the world around me, and saddled with an almost antigravitic urge to get away, anywhere but where this pain is, I guess I shouldn't be surprised at how thoroughly foreign the world becomes. Looking out the front door for the first time in a week, I get the strongest sensation that I'm looking out on a world where the gradient of time is much sharper than it is in here: people come and go, seasons come and go, and I remain here in slow time.

It's 24-hr reality television, coming right through the window. And here on the other side of the glass, I have about as much connection to the world as I would with a phosphor-dot image on the tele. The biggest problem is that it's always reruns... I've seen this one before. Didn't really like it the first time. And I'm hoping that one day soon something new will come along.


Blogger tinarama said...

Not that it's Quite the same, I know, but I get a similar sensation after spending any significant amount of time in front of a computer. When I'm trapped at work it seems like at least the internet lets me be somewhat connected to the rest of the world ... but when I finally go outside at the end of a 10 or 11 or 12 hour day, I feel like I'm waking up from some bizarre dream. I can't imagine how much this effect must be magnified for you, since you're not able even to go outside so often.

Right now I feel like I'm on another planet.

I just heard the presses stop. Which means I really am the very last person here. That's a strange feeling, too.


Blogger Foobario said...

When I was working (wow, it just occurred to me that I can refer to those years like my grandfather would have: back in ought-two...) I would show up before the day was light and leave after it got dark. For all I knew the sun never even came up. Go home, sleep a couple of hours, rinse, repeat.

It's fucking creepy being the last one in the building, on so many levels: does everyone but me have a life? Would my quality of life be better if I lived in a van down by the river? Am I totally this company's bitch?

Be glad you get that 'waking up' feeling at the end of the day... it's not as good as feeling awake and alive all day, but at least it tells you you're alive. There are precious few other indicators in the corporate lifestyle, and sometimes we need a reminder.
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