I can’t remember the sensation I was talking about here at all now. Even the memory of what it was liked has completely vanished, and until Facebook coughed this up from two years ago I didn’t even realize that that such an ephemeral newness had ever existed, which is a good thing, I guess, it means things have settled down in the synapses. Retirement has done my brain nicely, and the isolation of our pandemoid existence has done it even better. Alas, I’m bored to living fuck with isolation, I want to get out there amongst everyone and shake the synapses up again. I like people, always have. You guys are so strange to a lot of us chronic epileptics, you have all those emotions and sensations and feelings that seizures burn out in us, as if you all live in a infrared world and we’re living in black and white. I have no idea how you all mange to get so worked up, but it’s fun to watch, and I can’t wait to get out there among you again, when this arthritis calms itself down again. I’ve been arthritic since my thirties, and it’s getting to be irritating. If I wasn’t such a brain damaged epileptic I’d probably be depressed as hell. But then I’ve never been depressed in my life. Those triggers were zapped away decades away. There are some advantages, ha.
(2/20/2020) After a dozen hours of sleep the brain has settled down nicely. Realized I hadn’t been outta the house for a couple days and went to take down some bags to the bins and get the mail and I had this inexplicable trepidation. When I went outside it was like I’d never done it before. All these synapses reconnecting and remembering. All kinds of things are like that, each task a little adventure. I emerge from these epileptic interludes and the brain is reconnecting so many memories of even basic tasks. When I do them it’s exciting because it feels brand new. So these next couple days I’ll be doing stuff as if for the first time, reconnecting with the world again. It’s kind of wonderful, actually, if a little intimidating. It’ll pass in a day or two. More of the stuff they don’t teach you in epilepsy school because I suppose only epileptics experience it. I suppose if didn’t write these things down I wouldn’t remember them at all because the experience is so ephemeral. By next week I won’t be able to imagine this sensation at all. Then at some point another week or two of an epileptic interlude will happen, after which I’ll go through this again, and it will all seem brand new, and I’ll walk down the stairs again as if it were the very first time.
(2/21/2020) That ephemeral sensation of newness is gone now. It lasts a day, maybe two, and then disappears like a morning fog. I’d never written about it before. If I hadn’t written about it I’d never even know about it, it’s so fleeting, no more permanent than a dream you can’t remember the details of an hour later. Kinda cool, like so much of this epileptic shit, in a fucked up sorta way.