82 - Blurry blobs of feelings.
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Even though everyone in this colony wears the same
brown robes and has the same hair (none), it is
men and women and etc. all together. That brings
with it all the good and less good things you can
think of with that arrangement. But it's not like
this group is all strict and ascetic in how we
interact with each other, and so it's actually
sort of fun living here. As long as you also like
eating oatmeal, I guess. And memorizing lots of
stuff, for our buryings. I'll write more about
that sometime soon.
But the weirdest thing for me these days, is my
memory of stuff. I don't know if it's that
strangely-flavored something they put in the food
or what. But it's like my recollection of my life
before I came here is getting, I don't know,
foggy? I remember living in that camper in Burloo,
but I'll be darned if I can remember the name of
the guy in the house there that I worked with. Or
even exactly what I was doing, I think it was
something to do with plumbing. I feel like I'm
losing details every day. And I know I lived
somewhere else earlier this year, and I had some
friends, and before that a family, and something
happened to them, and it was bad. I think. I
recollect something of phases and transitions, but
somehow I cannot remember names or places or the
look of things, or anything specific. It's all
just blurry blobs of feelings standing in for a
thing that must have happened, but I can't tell
what.
Now that I'm recovering and socializing more with
the colony members in the main hall, sometimes I
try to join the conversation. Somebody says
something they did the other day, repairing one of
the vans for instance. And it reminds me of
something about a truck I think I once owned. And
I start to say something, but I got to stop.
Because when I go to recall, all the pieces are
missing and I got nothing to say. I think it's
not just me. I see that look in the others. It's
like they are listening, and they lean forward
like they want to add something, and then they
look confused and embarrassed and stay quiet. It's
that same kind of look people get when they think
they recognize someone, but then they see it's
actually not them.
Maybe that's why all the talk here is kind of
small and circular. It's like everyone tells the
same jokes over and over, and you talk about
yesterday and the day before, and that's all. Not
that I mind that much. You know, living in the
moment and all that.
