Wednesday, May 30, 2012
From "The Lost Journals of Old Pop Drivel"
I've been told I have a problem with floating. Even though this behavior is, so far as I know, 100% limited to dreams, it's effect on my waking hours is equally problematic, I'm told. Why would an innocent, unobtrusive float through the neighborhood be an issue? Especially my floats, which on a good day are like swimming through the air - a lazy breaststroke void of breathing concerns, where I can dive like a snorkeler to examine something that warrants extra attention. Even on a bad day, where my floats are ghostlike, I'm blown about the air willy-nilly, unable to control my speed or direction, and feet-less, meaning I should probably get some work done before I attempt a landing - even on those days, floating doesn't feel like much of a problem.
It is on such all-day floats that I can cover miles and miles of digital territory without remembering a single site. After I've returned and taken root again I may enjoying a breadcrumb tour a day or two later. It's like having a video camera strapped to my forehead for several hours before passing out during an extremely robust tequila tasting. Fortunately those days have been on a long hiatus and show no signs of returning soon. Even so, I just closed my eyes for a moment and could've sworn I was in Lanai (one of the Hawaiian Islands I've never visited), preparing to play golf.
Peder "Old Pop" Drivell - September, 1967. Las Cruces, New Mexico