Time Travel Whiplash

Chaos has overtaken the Barbour household,
and time is seriously out of whack.

I feel an affinity for 12 Monkeys' James Cole,
with Terry playing Kathryn Railly to my James.

Wikipedia   Non-free_use_rationale_guideline  Analogy/Critique   

If you've seen this chilling and unforgettable neo-noir sci-fi film,
then you grasp the consequences of time travel whiplash.

Wednesday, October 7th
Things started to slip out of control

when the Ever-Patient Terry and I arrived home 

just before midnight after a long day of traveling.

 

Sadly Leaving for the Airport on the Bus

Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

We were thrilled to be home!

Wired and tired, we roamed for hours

snacking on muesli scrounged in the pantry.

Terry crashed about 3:00 a.m.

But it was the first Wednesday of the month,
Insecure Writer's Support Group Day, 

so I was hopping all over the internet,
commenting on IWSG posts,
not to mention writing my next northern piece
due to publish in under 24 hours.

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Fortunately I remembered chunks of crystalized ginger
and squares of dark chocolate hidden behind the muesli.

Better than a shot of Red Bull!
The burn of a mouth full of ginger keeps you hopping,
and the silky melt of chocolate soothes the burn
way better than an emergency gulp from the cold water tap.

I had creative responsibilities,  

and in my timeview, it was still Wednesday;

Thursday wouldn't happen until I crawled out of bed.

At four a.m. common sense won.

Or was it that I couldn't see the computer screen

with my magnifying glasses on?
Or that I couldn't hop because my tongue was dead?

I tiptoed into the bedroom and slipped into bed.

keenetrial

Round and round I spun,

circling this way and that.

"Stop it, Louise!" blared the not so Ever-Patient!

"Every time you do that, cold air gets under the covers!"

Whoa!  
Sharp words from the Ever-Patient?

Perhaps he was experiencing time troubles too,

feeling a little more Jeffrey Goines than Kathryn Railly?
It was all downhill from there.

Disclosure:  Sometimes the E-P has
non E-P moments and morphs into Grumpy Cat.

4:08 a.m. ~  Lack of Empathy for My Late-Night Writing

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4:12 a.m. ~  Lack of Empathy for My Late-Night Writing 

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My internal clock ran amok for days,
and things spiraled more and more out of control.
I might as well have criss-crossed time zones 
around the world twice in 80 hours.

Question:  At what point would you recognize you were spiraling?


Thursday, October 8th:  
Up at 11:30 a.m.
We eat muesli with half and half
and sandwiches made of rat cheddar cheese 
in six-week old bread.

Grumpy Cat plays pickle ball 
while I don't go to the store.
I'm too busy and too wired. 
I'm write, write, writing.

The Ever-Patient reappears and plops 
a supper-sized bowl of muesli 
and half and half by my computer.

I write until 3:00 a.m. 
with repeated trips to the cupboard and tap.

Writers Fuel

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Friday, October 9th:
Up at 5:30 a.m. 
Still muesli with half and half.
Terry plays pickle ball.

I chug coffee bleary-eyed.
I have forgotten about going to the grocery store.
Or blogging. Or writing.

I am prying photos out of an old album with a sharp knife
while I watch some of the many episodes 
of the Young and the Restless I missed while traveling.

I think about the dozens and dozens of other albums
I have to pry photos from too.  And digitize.
I want to stab the album.

My writing!  Yikes!
I stab the knife block instead and power up my computer.

To power myself up,
I begin to scarf ginger and chocolate,
washing them down with copious coffee.

I enter the flow!
I am on a creative roll!

Hours later the E-P reappears and gently suggests 
I shower before he takes me to Parkway to eat,
because now there is no more bread or half and half,
and dry muesli is hard to swallow 
after playing pickle ball in the hot sun at 6,000 feet.

We pick up milk on the way to Parkway.
I hungrily eat hot food and toss back merlot at the bar.

Much later, at home, 
writing and blogging have slipped my mind. 
I am playing Star Trek, Goldfish, 
and myVegas slots on-line.  Brilliantly!  
I win millions of fake chips 
and stagger to bed about 3:30 a.m.

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Saturday, October 10th: 
Up at 7:00 a.m. 
I have an early hair appointment.
I am in serious need of a skunk line coverup,
and nothing comes between me and my hair stylist.

On the way home I stop at Sprouts 
for more half and half, ginger, and chocolate,
and something green, leafy, and scary 
to go with Sprout's deli-prepared meatloaf.

No time to get anything more!
I have writing and blogging to do
(and maybe a couple of slot spins 
with my new millions).

After a meatloaf supper with no green, leafy, scary things,
I degenerate into a gambler on tilt.
I lose millions of fake chips.
I am pissed.

The E-P distracts me with 
a consoling arm around my shoulder.
I accidentally hit maximum bet 
and lose a half million chips in one spin.
I am broke and really pissed.

Terry beats a hasty retreat downstairs
to hide in whatever sports event is on tv.
His rabid male cheering doesn't cheer me.

There is nothing like a big gambling loss to clear brain fog!
Writing!
I wallow in Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan's
Girl from the North Country countless times
while rereading my memoir-in-progress.

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The Rest:
I'll spare you the rest.
I realized I was out of control 
when I found a big bag of baby kale 
in the fridge on Monday.
Whatever possessed me to buy that?

I'm hoping that kale degenerates into slime quickly,
and I can sneak it into the garbage without Terry noticing.


Today, Tuesday, October 15th:
Last night I only stayed up until 1:00 a.m. 
writing my latest northern post.
I only played Cash and Dylan's GFTNCountry 
about 20 times while I was writing. 

I got up at 7:00 a.m. to spit-shine my northern post
before two appointments this morning.
Both were cancelled by sick providers!
I had the unexpected gift of extra time!

So I drafted this without Cash and Dylan, 
ginger and chocolate, or muesli and half and half.

I'm slowing the whiplash of herky jerky time travel.
I think I've dodged a James Cole plunge into madness.
I think I can sleep tonight!

 You Tube ~ Damian Ponce 

And then the phone rang.

The Lovable Labs are coming to visit.
Just when I thought I was gaining control.

Oh silly optimistic me!