With apologies to Spencer and his crazy.
I wake up.
You wake up at Seatac, SFO, LAX.
I woke up on the side of the road at the border with New York. Opal was tied up in the back of the van. We talked a little, and parted ways.
You wake up at O'Hare, Dallas-Fort Worth, BWI.
The blackouts have been getting much worse. I'm slipping. I don't know if it's that easy to tell from the outside. It's harder to keep track of where the blackouts end.
Pacific, mountain, central. Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.
My logs are really only vague suggestions and guesswork of where I stop and It starts.
You wake up at Air Harbor International.
The music helps. It keeps me focused. Keeps me awake. Changing my face helps as well. I'm wondering how I'd look in ginger.
If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?
There's a murderous drum-beat in my head. I know where it's from. And that scares me. So I'm driving east, clean out of Vermont towards the ocean.
Any objections? (EN: Nope)