As I Sit Here (Stream of Consciousness)

I woke at 3:41 in the morning, fed the cats, washed my hair in the kitchen sink, coffeed myself, and exercised a bit.  The boiler in my home maintains seventy degrees in the living room and sixty-nine degrees in my bedroom.  I have a fake Christmas tree that is not tall enough to reach my waist.  At present, I have a single ornament dangling from the bottom branches of the tree.  The ornament is ugly—two Christmasy peas in a stocking pod.

I like the ornament because I feel sorry for it.

I have a little money in the stock market, but the stock market has been flopping around like a trout thrown down in the riverside grass.  Some days I have more money in the market than others.  Everyone says: “The losses are all on paper…you are fine as long as you pull your money out when the market is trending up.”

Question.                   

Where is up? 

I have stopped going to the windows to watch whenever a helicopter whunka-whunks overtop my home.  I am not sure why I no longer care about them, but I don’t care.  Reggae music still spurs me to wriggle and jive.  My new favorite made-up word is ‘yessy.’  In a sentence, the word might be used like this: “She felt totally yessy inside after winning the lottery.”

I understand that all I see and all that I feel is transitory.  I know why newborns grasp at the air.  I can close my eyes and see anything I desire.  Driving through Montana makes me want to always stay here.  I now consider each day like a complete apartment in a huge apartment complex.  I am ready for what comes next.

--Mitchell Hegman