My mental processing and prowess has tired me and it is not that I desire sleep, but a nearly mindless activity in which I can submerge—to cloud my judgements with pleasant subtle distractions. Enablingof such an exercise ironically seems exhausting as much as I am tired. My engine of thought in active cognizance requires refueling. Even now as these written words express frustration in visiting rigorous mental “architectural proposals”, they themselves contribute to continuance of this practice. Perhaps this is not entirely so as written expression can be—and often is—a method for self-prescribed relief of a mildly or severe chaotic thought. Strike the word “chaotic”—it was far too dramatic an adjective to describe my experience. With the lack of a more accurate word, it is similar to the feeling of weary frustration you may experience after dedicating a large quantity of time assembling a one-thousand piece jigsaw puzzle and aren’t even halfway through. (Add to this scenario that the puzzle is that common picture of a scene in nature—say in autumn—where you brain must manage a complex color scheme and then atop of this wilderness is a seventy-five foot high old train bridge, with a steam locomotive traveling above and perhaps there is a flock of rare birds, with conflicting colors to the autumn motif. Do you catch my drift? I hate fucking jigsaw puzzles)!

Disdain settles in for the kill, pouncing for its valiant cease and desist effort, ending this recent meditation. Allow me to clarify in that the recent and significant introspection of which I speak has been most enlightening—and well needed—so this desire for change is not an attempt to refute lessons learned. It seems close to our body’s need to unwind after say, a marathon or other strenuous activity. (Keep it clean folks, I will save essays on human sexuality for a later time).

So to pass through what feels like a limbo between digesting philosophy and benign relaxation, is there a compromising transitional process which includes properties of both states?

Maybe I require a plan of action—to propose to myself specific mindless activities and then select one in which to engage. Even this idea makes me want to regurgitate slightly—just wanting to make it feel simpler and freeze all recent and present thoughts into close to nothingness—like entering a cryogenic chamber. This would be, I would imagine (sense I’ve never been a “peoplesicle”), just like sleeping, which I said is what I wished to avoid in the first place.

 It is time to be enticed by sedentary acts—with low motor skills being required—watching television, such as an insanely dull and void of content, yet comedic program or even humming while driving. Is this latter endeavor concerning to anyone—that operating a two ton weapon is a mundane task where our minds and eyes easily wander off the road to other imagery?!

I have decided my selection, for now, will be just that. My motivation, is thankfully by circumstance. To win the war against the meter-maid (or man? person? public ordinance collection technician?) who conspires against drivers by making meters defective, one of which robbed me of forty-five minutes and seventy-five cents—which would have been sufficient just for one more refill of coffee.

Ian D. Campbell