Dawn breaks the mould of my sleepless thoughts and ushers in a dreary haze that nourishes the dour humours of the body. A sleepless sleep dreaming of dreams never dreamt and staring down the greatest conundrums of the spiralling universe. What is the instrumental purpose of time in a timeless reality? What limits the definition of a body inhabitable by an ancient soul? Why do they sell olive spread that contains buttermilk, rendering it inedible by vegans who are surely the sole purchasers of the inferior butter product? Such torrid questions vex and bewilder the supplicant mind of the fevered philosopher.
But I am a man, a man, I am and I am a man who will not be dragged through the intellectual mire of self-awareness and instead I will be man and go out into the thin rain and beat my chest. My glorious act is observed by envious eyes, twitching curtains as they plot their vile schemes. Neighbors. Enemies. The enemy, the ultimate enemy, is time. Entropy. They are against it as much as I am, yet we have no hope to stall its endless march that does not exist at all, but we make it so. They shame me with their glares. I am returned to the house with soggy slippers and a sodden dressing gown draped across my shoulders.
Like kings of old! I am returned to boundless arrogance the moment I cross the threshold. Here I reign supreme until the landlord comes to fix the boiler, which he never will. Entropy is against him too, it seems. So, forever the omnipotent master of the house, of the self, I take care of this wild kingdom with a twofold assault. First, the body. I am strength. I am nimbleness. I work out. I work inward. Part two, the mind. Knowledge is power. I read; of history, of science, of how to fix a boiler. Unbound fate, I am chaos incarnate. I shall not be stopped.
Two days, no sleep, all caffeine. I am ascended.
Paddy Dobson
4th December 2020