Good time

I could taste the remnants of raw alcohol creating bubbles of random discrete matter in my throat and acted like any ruminant mammal. I was living proof of the Uncertainty Principle so that even the whites of my eyeballs were made up of gritty electrons, in flux, spring boarding from one aeon level to another and tying my eyes shut with superstring. I was sure that my body had been through some kind of gravitational collapse, had crumpled into bed trying to burn out who I was and put together a different chronology of where I'd been. I didn't know whether to waken up, or try and tuck in another five minutes, but my mind was already slashing through sleep, destroying all dreams of reality, plotting the infinitely indivisible permutations of the things I didn't want to do that day and the life times that I would spend trying not to do them.

I felt the improbability of a hand moving past me at super-luminal speed and banging down hard on the dance of the alarm clock, an inanimate object, willing me to get up, not turn over and disrupt the never-say-never ending unity of the timeless winter universe, reducing it to a broken metronome, stuck forever at 5.32am, then 5.33am, then 5.34am. I put on hold eternal recurrence and the cosmic calculus of the terminal unfairness of another working day, by hitting the snooze button.

I was trying to determine how fast I would need to move if I never moved and I was nearly there. I was like a top heavy Kali trying to eat a bit of toast, shave, feed the cat and clean out the plug hole. I might just have made it, if I could just have balanced a bit longer on one leg, while putting my left sock over my raggedy big toe nail, without hurting myself too much, but I didn't and that pain pulled my body down to another level.

I was the personification of fashionable hippy lateness now as I tasted squeezed apple juice for the first time. Just as I was not hurrying I found my car keys by synchronicity in my denim jacket pocket. I hoped and believed that finding my car would be as easy.

I had a belated presentiment of an adolescent deep mutual tonguing -with enough saliva to swallow a full school meal-and the, as yet, unspoken bubbling up of an 'oh no'.