the dastardly days of February malaise

i don't know what it is about February, but there seems to be some strange repetitive quality to this week so far. besides Sid, besides the Novocaine, besides the San Franciscan correspondences - besides all the circles i keep seeing spinning out of control in front of me - i also sense an odd déjà vu just beyond my field of vision. it's an unusual feeling, not entirely comfortable, and it hasn't gone unnoticed that i was pushed just beyond my last substantial breaking point almost a year ago.

it's difficult to fathom how much has changed. that particular experiment was undertaken in haste after months of missed opportunities, and each time i remember the way it all unfolded, i can't help but get a chill. it was perfect each stage of the journey, and each misstep i made only served to cement the magnificence of the experience in my memory.

since then things have moved more and more of their own accord, and i often think of a friend who told me that - eventually - my life would feel less and less like my own. maybe that's what this is, maybe it's the opposite. maybe it doesn't really matter.