Narcosis

Six months ago I broke my arm in two places in a ridiculous bicycle accident. I was given oxycodone (endone) to take home for the pain. I took it in the early afternoon and sat on the couch and lay my head back and my mouth was agape and the ceiling slowly turned then turned back. It defied the laws of physics for never having a moment of zero acceleration. It constantly turned back and forth never seeming to slow down or speed up despite the direction change. And as I marvelled at the laws I was taught at school being flouted my daughters played around me. They might have played with building blocks or flicked through books or held a barbie doll that was given to us unsolicited. But I couldnt engage in what they were doing.
     Narcosis.
     It was pleasant even though I knew it was dangerous. I was not unwell and I was not dying but I knew that if some emergency occurred I would be watching the flames or the shuddering of the earth or the second coming of christ and still sitting on the couch with my mouth agape and my eyes looking at the ceiling and pondering the effects of the cataclysm on the ceiling itself rather than getting out of the house and grabbing as many of my offspring as I could carry.
     This evening I was on this computer listening to music and playing solitaire instead of doing something meaningful with my life. I was in a stupor stronger than the drug-induced one. I couldnt get out of playing the game. I understood its pointlessness. I fathomed its meaninglessness. But I was in an infinite spiral.
     As I did this a song called Narcosis played with its bent guitar notes in descending minor intervals and native american vocal harmonsation. The song gave me a landing on my spiral to rest and visualise myself.
     I stopped.

Until das naechstes mal,

Tom