Twists and Turns

My cell rattles on the kitchen counter, making the cord of the charger snake a little. I'm finishing up an email to my girlfriend, telling her that I'm feeling much better. The swelling (post brain surgery) on the right side of my face has gone down and I'm off the pain meds. I throw a period at the end of the sentence and cross into the kitchen to check the phone. It's a text message from her. I read it but I don't remember much. Maybe I smiled at something cute she wrote. Maybe she said she loved me. I don't remember that. But the last line gave me pause and within minutes I was back at the breakfast table repeating it to myself.

The weather in Zurich is lovely today.

I'm sorry, what? How did this happen? Just a few weeks ago I was living my life. Mine. Now, I'm not particularly well know as a man who "has his shit together". It's just not my style. But I was living my life, damnit. I had a messy apartment. I had a beautiful, passionate girlfriend that I lived with. I had various odd jobs. I went out drinking sometimes with friends. You might not call it orderly but it was what I was used to. It was my life.

So, the question begs to be asked. What the hell is this?

The weather in Zurich is lovely today.

My girlfriend is writing me about the weather in Zurich. Now, that must mean that my girlfriend is in Zurich, looking around at the weather. The fact that I'm receiving the text means that I am not with her. No, I am here in my mother's house in Los Angeles in hospital pajamas (cause they're damn comfortable) receiving her message.

As I ponder this curveball, I remember that I need my mother to look through her old credit card receipts to find proof of purchase of my computer. She listens to me as I ask it of her, says ok with a relaxed smile, and turns to return to the kitchen. As she makes her way back to whatever she was in the middle of, I hear her muttering to herself. "Look through credit card records." When I was young and my mother would rattle off the list of chores I was to do that day, I would repeat them outloud to myself so as not to forget. I couldn't focus well on such things. There was nintendo to be played, and somehow I thought repeating it would help me remember a simple list of simple tasks. It didn't work, but that's not the point. At some time, my mother and I had reversed roles. The thoughts crossed my mind in succession: my mother is old and muttering, my girlfriend is in Zurich, the weather is lovely there.

I looked back at the email I'd yet to send and it all flooded in, finally and totally sweeping the idea of my life well away. What the shit!!?

My brain swelling has gone down.
The weather in Zurich is lovely today.
"Go through credit card records for Joey."

If time is a pitch, it's a sinker. That is until you think it's a sinker and then it changes to a fast ball and blows by your left cheek at 96 mph. The next time you see it, it's a change up.

If it's a river, it'll flash flood. If it's a hose it'll kink.

Here's to thinking we know what's going to happen. We might as well drink to it. The truth will shock us less if we're drunk.