/ The First is Always New

In my left brain I am listening to a reader bring the life of Prince Edward Island in the 1870s to as comparable an idyll as can be found in the driver's side of a foreign sedan and in my right brain I am imagining what kind of hat I would wear if I were to fake my own demise and emerge pseudonymously abroad, certainly in a Romance language country, and in my center brain I am burying my most recent regret deep in a hippocampic box sealed by a combination lock with all the numbers scraped off and in my top shelf I am scheming to use the homonyms insightful and inciteful at one fell turn over drinks, and when you mix it all together, it's called a suicide.

In my office chair I am currently pressing the 'do not disturb' button on my phone, because I do not wish to go through my day disturbed, even if I appear that way on frequent trips to the restroom, and almost immediately someone calls and leaves a message, and the flashing red light is more disturbing than the actual call could have possibly ever been. My do not disturb button needs a separate do not further disturb light disenabler. I can practically hear the pounding of the little red strobe, good god.

In my notebook is a line that reads, 'Litotes will not be uncommon in my next tall tale,' and the line is repeated successively in anaphoric consistency, litotes will not be unuseful, litotes will not be unmeaningful, and so it goes not without nausea. And still I cannot use it out loud in conversation, the words either too difficult to grasp or too plain in the presence of my more common phrases, you betcha and ain't it, though?

I ran through it yesterday morning, really, wholeheartedly got over the friction between my knee and its ligaments. I mean, in my own self-serving manner I ran through it yesterday morning, really, wholeheartedly and not unquickly. It was the first time since my injury that I pulled out my pretty black watch with the not at all disturbing blue light that never flashes when I have phone calls in the queue, but only when I want to illuminate the progress I have planned out for myself, and only when I push the button. The time coincided with the actual time of day, and it took me over a minute of switching from TIMER mode to TIME mode before I figured out the trick, which is almost certainly to run an hour earlier and a minute faster tomorrow, if you want to experience that same thrill of confused repetition all over again.

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