Doombus Omnibus

I think I became overstimulated by starting the blog in the middle of the night. Wound up not sleeping at all. Currently pretty useless.

I said I wouldn't get a cell phone again, but I have.

I said I wouldn't get a car again, but I have.

I said I wouldn't blog, but I didn't mean it.

There's a warning that should come with this. Wittier, more interesting and generally cooler people are out there. And I will not attempt to match them in their omniness. This is the Doombus. Board at your own risk.

Now, don't be misled. By Doombus, I don't mean that there will be in these pseudopages any talk of {doomsday|doom-n-gloom|miasma}. I don't want to depress the multitudes that are awaiting with bated breath my every keystroke, nor do I intend to terribly excite my Goth readership. Though they do, of course, remain always in my thoughts. Nay, verily shall the Doombus Omnibus be like a ray of sunshine such as inspires music and dancing. This is the Doombus. Sing along with me, children.

It Starts
It's like this. I haven't had a regular sleep cycle in about three weeks. For one thing, this has meant that I have been subject to the screaming rants of 3-am-street-roaming Bronxites (presently, a gentleman who feels quite strongly that "Brrrrrrrrrap! Bidi-bidi-bap!" has alerted those of us awake and blogging to this fact about seven hundred times in the past half hour). But, as importantly, it has also meant that I have more hours in the day during which to think (if I'm not loathing).

Borges wrote somewhere, about the nature of time, that "When you do not ask me, I know; but when you ask me, I don't know."

But that's not what I've been thinking about. I've been thinking about change. I saw some people the other night whom I hadn't seen at all in 3 - 5 years, and not on a regular basis in a decade. And it's the old cliche about "not a day having passed," but the fact is that very many days have passed. And during these days, we've moved around so many places on this continent and others. We've met and loved so many different people. We've read books, and seen movies, and submitted writings to magazines. We've cris-crossed the continent by plane, bus, train, car and truck. We've been depressed and euphoric and everything between. So even without any buddhist notions of the impossibility of any permanence, it becomes pretty clear that we must have changed fairly drastically. Must have, and probably did.

Only not. After spending 5 hours in conversation as filled with both depth and silliness as they used to be, it became clear (even as an impassioned fellow Bronxite alerted the neighborhood that someone, somewhere had just scored a "Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!") that even though the individuals who constitute a relationship have (must have) changed, the relationship has not. How this is possible, another night. The sun's due up any second.