2012年1月13日 "'Close' only counts

with horseshoes and hand-grenades."

Fast enough?

There have been times in my life where I wake up one day after another, and it moves too fucking fast. Days begin to merge. Patterns develop to the point where I more or less distinguish days by how I felt and what the horizon looked like when I first stepped outside. 

Upon reflection everything feels like warp-speed, - not so much Godspeed, as that's for God, - yet it all feels like time is just a smashed mess. It's kind of like when someone steps on a packet of ketchup or the removed genitalia of a recently made eunuch.

So when I think about whether or not I'm close to my goals in life, objectives or anything else, sometimes I can't see a difference between day one, day two, and day 100. It seems like as soon as one thing completes something else comes in, and takes my attention, and the process repeats. Things blur. Are we blurred too?

Of course there are exceptions, such as things that will only end when I die, and by then I'm probably going to reflect on why death hadn't happened earlier.