Now hear me out

What if, every night, your sleeping soul is carried by the white spider from the previous day’s body to the next day’s body, so that, as every morning, you wake to a new life, with a new set of memories that, feeling genuine make the new life feel like the same old life as always, a life you remember? Because of the memories. And you go through the day carrying the burden of those memories, bent under grudges, horrors and hopes, hurting others, hurting yourself, trying to help and getting it wrong, thinking, This is the day I have some luck, until you fall asleep again at night, and wake in a new same old bed the next morning.

With a new face that feels like an old face, with scars the infliction of which you remember in detail, remember well, or vaguely, or only through stories, with bills to pay, kids to get off to school, animals to feed, a yard to mow, doctors’ appointments, laws of nature to obey.

Until one morning you look out that day’s window into the windows of a hundred thousand other apartments and wonder, who am I without these memories, which are maybe not real? These memories are only the stories I am telling myself today. What if I tell myself other stories?

What if I say, to hell with the memories, if only for today?

What’s on the menu?

Important announcement regarding apocaplexia et al.

The current simulation has exhausted its allotment of disk space and will be running in reverse until this is sorted; as a consequence, reality is temporarily suspended.
For participants, this may result in chronological dysphoria, including the sensation that time is running backwards, or along multiple vectors, or not at all.
For example, this blog, metamorphosism.com, is now older than both twitter and facebook, as pointed out by Joeri in a recent tweet.
Not only that, it is now more important and influential than either of the aforementioned former media powerhouses, which have abruptly been reduced to a mess by a billionaire* and a site for selling used furniture (not my joke), respectively.
It can be expected that someone will soon invent the RSS feed and we will be able to satisfy our need for virtual human contact through commenting on one another’s “blogs” (short for Web Logs).
__________
*in his diapers, amirite?

Results of the 2023 Metamorphosism.com International St. Valentine’s Day Limerick Contest

Sorry, am I late? When did I say I would announce the winners? I went out to a tavern with my wife for some wine and smoked meats etc. It was very nice but really loud! Anyway here I am.
Anyway I hope you’re having a nice Valentine’s Day.
We had 15 limericks entered this year, by Perry, KayO, Tony, and Zissou.
It made me very happy to see that so many people out there still place such a high value on literature and poetic participation.
And everyone entered proper limericks, well done, people!
For secret reasons, KayO and Perry share first place. Tony takes second place and Zissou third. Congratulations!
Although I announced from the beginning that there would be no prizes this year, I had hoped to send (surprise!) homemade marmalade to the winners. Unfortunately, I have concerns about how well the jars sealed, from a food-poisoning POV, so to avoid botulism being the surprise, there will in fact really be no prizes this year.
Maybe next year!
Anyway, my sincere thanks to everyone who entered, and thanks to the millions of readers who visited to enjoy the entries, practically crashing our servers.
Practically.
Now go and celebrate, or not, as is your way.
xo

The contest is here (the entries are in the comments).

Morning routine

I had planned to go bouldering with my daughter so I ate a lighter-than-usual breakfast so I would be lighter than usual while climbing, so by the time I got into town I was hungry and went into a bakery and as I stood there waiting my turn and deciding whether to get a slice of pizza or a sausage baked into what looks like a croissant* I felt for my wallet and it was missing.
I started patting all my pockets and realized i was blocking traffic so I went outside and did a more thorough search of myself – suit jacket, pants, and winter coat and although the spare notebook, crow snacks, various receipts and two random small candles were present and accounted for, because they live in my coat, everything else was missing – wallet, card holder, pens, various ID cards, spare elastic hair thing, cleaning rag for spectacles (the small one), emergency USB stick, spare lighter (in case I need to light a candle or, should the apocalypse or final uprising occur while I am out and about, a camp fire or a barricade).
Pickpocket OMG! I thought, before dismissing that theory on the basis of no pickpocket is that thorough.
What that leaves is I am a moron as usual.
That reminds me my wife is doing genealogical research and noticed a question on one old census, “Are there any idiots or lunatics in your household?”.
She did not tell me how my ancestors answered that but I know how I would.
But interesting, how those words used to be, like, scientific expressions.
I knew at once why I forgot everything (barring OCD pickpockets) – I had short-circuited my morning routine. After breakfast I was upset because my wife said, “you realize you are not telling me this for the first time” as I explained that black rye is not a different sort of rye but simply a more roughly-milled rye flour (something I explain every time I bake rye bread and someone compliments it and I say, oh, you think so? well I used some black rye flour) and I went upstairs to get dressed and my mind was busy thinking about how dumping information is a love language and time to put my pajamas into the clothes hamper and I did that and got dressed and put my phone into my pocket and went downstairs because my brain read “pajamas in hamper and phone in pocket” as “putting things away/into pockets” with the result that it did not feel weird to go directly downstairs instead of – as usual – standing by my nightstand and putting everything into my pockets (wallet, cards, hair thing, lighter, USB stick, pens, glasses cloth, IDs, etc).
Putting on shoes, I even had a hunch – some distant clump of synapses trying to warn me – that I might be forgetting something so I checked if I had crow feed (yes) and a face mask (no! good thing I checked!).
Anyway. Morning routine. Very important.
__________
*by this i of course mean “whether to purchase a slice of pizza, or a sausage baked into a croissant,” and not “whether to have the baker bake into a croissant one of two things – a slice of pizza or a sausage.”

Momentarily

I let the cat in
or out, or both
the air was cold outside
and warm inside
and the moon was bright
the door locked with a loud click
because it’s just a little
out of alignment due to
decades of settling
and i thought
god i haven’t written mom in ages
i should tell her how nice
life is and how great
the kids are and
everything that’s going on
this new place with great breakfasts
how well my scones turned out
but she’s dead
i had forgotten momentarily
i opened the door back up
and took another look at the moon

Afternoon light

I got a surprise prostate exam at the urologist this morning.
Now as anyone can tell you, the urologist’s office
is the last place where a prostate exam
should be a surprise.
But I had been lured there for a blood test.
I thought the prostate exam was next week.
One of those things.
Everything looks good, apparently.
But some numbers had not been good, so, is why.
We’re waiting for the blood test results.
Which will either be tonight or
in a week or two.
I hope it’s tonight, to get it over with.
He had a little trouble drawing blood this time.
Usually it goes smoothly, but he was missing
the vein, then he got it but lost it again
or went through it.
I think my veins are about average
so I don’t know what the problem was.
I’m on my lunch break now.
I’m wondering if I’m getting over
Covid brain or going senile.
I just fed some crows that have been watching me
from the balcony.
The light is weird, it feels timeless.
Like they’re tinkering with the simulation
and have us stuck in a temporary loop for a while
or something.
Yesterday at work I listened to a music album
on youtube, it is a triple album, heavy on the drones
and overtones, three hours long.
After about five hours I realized
Youtube had it on repeat.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell the
masterpieces from the hoaxes.
The music from the field recording of a
refrigerator, which
is, however, of course also music.
And appropriate for this light.

Haiku

Something stinks in here
Man: turns off the space heater
Listens carefully