Waking up above the clouds, it was only a misdemeanor, after all, so I'm starting to misremember. It was an inordinately long take-off, and I knew I should be saving my songs, but my throat was getting itchy. Only for a second, I closed my eyes, so I wouldn't be tempted to gnaw the dust from under my nails. And slept through it. Leaving. Whenever I'm above, I end up wishing I were a Christian again because I love it up here and would like to believe it were not finite. Is and isn't. 


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I wonder at the down-below. Wish I knew better geography. Are we above France yet, and can we stop in for a minute so I can practice my French in saying goodbye again?
I haven't forgotten, but I'm in a different place and simply care less. My interest has shifted. If you fall asleep in take-off, you forget to hold on to the you you're bringing over. It slips out and under your neighbor's seat. You don't wanna make a fuss, so you reckon you'll get it later, except the voice tells you you're arriving. Your very own high alt wake-up call. We're here now.

> "Be here now." (Ray LaMontagne, probably sometime)

I spent too long being impatient with myself over trivial and not-so-trivial things. Disavowing things, changing my mind about 4 AM ballads. I ended up using the hard definitive once too many, so now, when I open my eyes above the clouds, I resist the urge to say "new clouds, new me". I'm the same old mnemonic, floating above familiar coulds.
I have learned to hold myself in my own acrid fluidity. Expect it will take long periods of time. That there is no laid-out mold for the way this turns out simply because my life has never turned out this way before. 

Have I left behind the things I'm supposed to?

Hmm.

No. 

But then again, you're not supposed to leave at halftime. It takes time, constant readjustment to living things. Fixation over come-and-go. I haven't left it in the snow at home. But neither am I thinking about it anymore just now. Up here, I am reminded of how nothing is permanent. Not even my soar above the clouds. 

Cabin crew, prepare for landing.

----

I don't know about you, but I can (and often do) sleep like a baby during flights. It doesn't matter if it's first thing in the morning (like the one above) or mid-day and I'm well rested. There's just something about being on a plane... I could say it's the pressure, but I don't know enough physics stuffs to actually know that. So I'm not sure what it is, but I sleep. A lot. And wake up in a mood shift. And write about it. I've been away. How have you been?


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