I see in front of me my word magic: symbols appear, then fade away and re-appear again further down the electric page.
I hear the low hum of machinery, a fan blowing to keep the room temperature cool, the faint babble of Spanish AM radio, random loudspeaker pages... and suddenly, as I write this (literally), the TiVo has kicked in and started recording a sports show, making me nearly shit myself in brief terror.
(Funny how I was writing about the things I can hear when it happened-- the TV monitor is off but the audio feed is potted up!)
Anyway...
I don't smell anything in particular. My sense of smell is my weakest sense, because of my smoking habit. I smoked a cigarette this morning as I drove to work, and even though I washed my hands before entering the office, the faint aroma of nicotine is wafting through my moustache hairs. Otherwise, there are no foul odors to report, nor any pleasantries for my olfactory benefit.
I feel the passive secession of each key as I press my fingers down upon them. I feel the chill of the air conditioner. I feel the coffee in my gut and the churning of my bowels, giving me a countdown to my next bathroom break. I feel the remnants of sleep still lodged in my eyelashes. I feel the high dissipating as I come down and accept my surroundings.
I taste nothing except for the residue of caffeine and sugar.
2 comments:
This is like a post I did last semester! It was right after hearing a lecture on gestalt therapy. Getting in touch with all of the different forms of your awareness is supposed to ground you an dmake you feel better. I found it pleasant. You?
As an aside, come out of your hermitage. And, did you ever decide to go to therapy?
You have a moustache now? Congrats. I miss mine.
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