My most recent horoscope forecast that a religious experience was most likely in my imminent future. Haven't I been enjoying an altered understanding of time and/or space? Well, this is a harbinger of the oncoming sea change.
Truth be told, I haven't really known what day it was since I arrived in Pittsburgh, and it hasn't mattered anyway. So I assume I'm on the threshold of transcendence.
And the eve of the longest night of the year seems like the perfect opportunity to restructure my notions of time.
I am no stranger to such restructuring.
A couple years ago, Gwen and I lived in a house on the edge of Fountain Square where a constant braid of jerky wrappers twisted itself into the chain link fence on the yard's periphery.
[Here we are pictured sprawled on the porch with beers in hand.]
Through empiric scientific observation, we gained an understanding of the litter's omnipresence. Our home's proximity to Slim Jim suppliers, Village Pantry, was the approximate distance required to unwrap and consume a single Slim Jim, thereby guaranteeing a garbage pile of plastic packaging at the edge of our yard.
Our house was one cheesy beef stick away from the convenience store.
A new system of measurement, snacklength, was born.
Along similar conceptual lines, Family Dollar's holiday suggestion aisle sells a tube containing "a yard of bubblegum." But how far/long does it take to chew the gum before it loses its flavor?
I live a couple bites away from House Gone Wylie, maybe a bagel length from Frances' place, and a small meal away from work.
By plane, I'm probably a couple passes through the MCL cafeteria line from home. Looking forward to decreasing that distance shortly.