What is up with the super old ajeoshi and the really loud walkie talkie phones? Sunday mornings always give me a crisis of consciousness, because those things were also really, really in with the young men who populated Bedstuy, Brooklyn. That bloop-bloop sound has some kind of Pavlov's Dog effect on my awareness of my surroundings.
In my head:
Bloop-bloop! "Yo dawg how's it shakin'? Yo where you at man?"
In reality:
Bloop-bloop! "YOBOSEYO!? WAE!?"
Wait. What?
The same thing happens every time I travel (to anywhere) or am preparing to go home. Or if I'm thinking too much about home (as I am now). Something will happen in my everyday life that will suddenly trigger some kind of extremely brief, extremely vivid flash of some other time or place. Oh. I was just back sitting on that tall wooden stool in that Irish bar in Vienna for a second. Or, god I had completely forgotten about sitting in the booth at that coffee shop in the airport in Atlanta. Just quick as lightening. A flash, and then it's gone. Sometimes I don't even have time to register what the place is.
Is that weird? Should I see a doctor? A head shrink?
I think it's just one of those peculiar functions of memory. Or maybe it's something more metaphysical that has to do with time not moving in straight lines or some such nonsense. Past lives, and all that. God knows I've had enough of them.
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God. Everyone at work has those phones. I have one.
Bloop bloop! Meet me at the diner in half an hour. No. The one DeKalb. Okay. I'll bring the cigarettes. Marlboro menthol two for one!
Copy. Over.
Do you think they blueberry muffins today?
I'm never smoking a menthol cigarette ever again in my life.
Some dude at work had a big tin of Top rolling tobacco.
Cowboy omelette?
God. Top is so ghetto. You might as well just rip up some dirty brown grass from the sidewalk cracks and smoke that.
Maybe if I put my cup closer to the edge of the table they'll refill my coffee.
*crash*
Goddamit.
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