Bleep. Bleep. I’m talking to myself tonight, and trying a new baked chicken recipe. New meaning I made it up as I went. Coated the chicken in 1 egg, a bunch of McCormick’s Hot Shot pepper, and 1 tablespoon prepared Colman’s mustard. Shook it in a bag of flour and whatever pepper and seasonings were in the cabinet.

A friend in college used to make FOOD. FOOD was made by taking everything in the kitchen cabinet, the refrigerator, wherever, and throwing it into a stock pot and heating it up. He’d throw in a can of chili, a bag of baby carrots, a can of cheddar cheese soup, a box of Shake ‘n’ Bake, a can of Vienna Sausages, and then he’d just stir and heat and eventually eat it.

I’m not doing that tonight, but coating some chicken in flour and arbitrary amounts of Italian seasoning and basil and three varieties of black pepper and I don’t remember what else reminded me of that college friend who for all I know still reads this web site but has no memory of FOOD.

It smells damn fine, whatever that is in the oven right now.

I can’t help noticing lately what a rattling cage my mind is. I laugh at jokes from the 5th grade as easily as funny things from yesterday. It’s always been this way, but I notice it more lately because I would have thought the significance of events from 20 years ago would have dimmed from my memory by now. They have not, but neither has the significance of what is happening today become any clearer. Not that today, or yesterday, or last week or any recent time has seen moments of significance. These days of 2004 blather on like pointless phone calls.

I don’t know what to remember, or what is important. How does anyone remember what to remember? How does anyone know what is happening? How can you come home at the end of a day and remember anything? How can you tell me where you were? How do you know that? How do you remember what to remember?

Lately I sleep past noon, work, practice, shit, walk around outside, listen to talk radio. Are these the good old days? It feels like it’s always been like this. I’m close to feeling peace. A few less pang-filled sleepless nights and maybe I’ll be there.

Or am I due for another seismic peeling of the mental and emotional constipation that coats my mind? This constipation, I noticed a few years ago, feels like sugar. A millimeter thick spray of sugar and artificial sweeteners caking my mind. Thickening. Do other people’s brains feel this way?