Unstable Mountain

1:19 a.m.
Track: “Time Is the Healer (Armin Van Buuren Remix)” — Riva

Another day passes, and another begins. Time feels fast and still at once — an oxymoron, really.

I’ve been meaning to write for days, but things keep slipping away — work, focus, or maybe motivation itself. Sometimes I wonder how I can spend hours doing something and still end up with nothing done.

Tonight I watched reruns of Samurai 7 for an hour and a half. Before that, I napped from eight to ten. Before that, I worked for three hours and accomplished nothing. It’s a strange loop — doing, undoing, existing in the in-between.

The RT project is fine, the emails steady. Yet my Motivational Sub-Logic Processing Core — my Mo-Core — feels misaligned. Maybe upgraded too many times, the new code clashing with the old. (Yes, I know — I sound like a cyborg.) But that’s what you get from someone who lives in the constant tug-of-war between logic and emotion.

Track: “Cura Me (Katana Remix)” — Signum

I wish I could work out every day. I wish I could cycle every day. I wish I knew what was really holding me back. Laziness? Repetition? The long spaces between milestones? Probably all of it.

When I napped earlier, I dreamt that Patrick and a few friends were driving up a mountain — an icy, unstable climb we’d done twice before. The third time, I cowered in the back seat. The road gave way.

Suddenly I wasn’t in the car anymore. Dust cleared. Patrick stood there, head bowed, while his friends were trapped inside the hole. He went down to my house — a Caribbean-style mansion at the mountain’s base — where our families grieved.

I stayed behind in a house that appeared over the crater, searching for a way to help. I picked up a phone — a strange pulse-dial cell — and called 911. I argued with the operator at first, then calmed down and followed her instructions. I was surprised I’d managed to call at all. In so many dreams, I can’t dial out — especially when it’s about people I once loved.

I think Patrick’s friends were rescued. The dream shifted to the mansion again, where I met Flora — one of his friends — and things turned abruptly sexual. Don’t ask me why. Dreams are bastards that way.

I can’t interpret it. If anyone can, I’d love to hear it.

Track: “Very Little Wishes” — Yoko Kanno

Maybe my Mo-Core is missing that feeling I used to have. Like back in ’96 — winter night, lawn chair at one a.m., friends talking by the pool, stars sharp above the city light. For a moment, I could almost feel the galaxy itself breathing.

Sometimes I think I’ve lived hundreds of years. My emotions feel older than my mind. I can almost hear the wind carrying the voices of people long gone — soft, ancient, endless.

Maybe that’s why I feel so restricted. Something inside me wants to burst out, to find meaning again. Maybe that’s my unstable mountain — the climb that never ends.

Track: “Time Is the Healer (Armin Van Buuren Remix)” — Riva

If you ever meet me, you might see it: the sad eyes behind the laughter. The smile that hides a restless mind. As Marlon once said, every time he sees me, he sees something alive trying to break free.

I wish I could live with that energy again — with focus, with direction. Maybe then, the mountain would stop shifting beneath my feet.

2:29 a.m.