I was listening to some song a moment ago while I meticulously checked accounts and balances to displace from seventeen other things. Until the computer decided that it was having trouble streaming a song. Anyway, there was a song about being a thousand miles from nowhere where time don't "matter to me." Dwight Yoakum's "A Thousand Miles from Nowhere" if you really want to know. I'm so not in that place. I'm in the displacing place. But it's a place of clock watching and calendar checking. A place where the minutes and hours count but I can't seem to make them count.
I took a picture of this sign somewhere on South Congress. Maybe on the side of Guero's. Do you think that the ravages of time have made this sign less convincing. Yeah.
Time is slipping away. I should be getting my files organized and figuring out how to make this move. But I'm displacing until it's time to do something else that will keep me from what I should be doing. I just keep consulting the 'to do' list and deciding to do something from it that is either easy or fun. Tomorrow it's May. I have to get productive. One minute I'm counting the minutes (it took me 10 minutes to do the crossword in the paper) and the next I'm wasting time blogging. I actually record the time it takes me to do things sometimes. I actually allocate time to a task sometimes ("I'll work on this for an hour..."). But for all that I'm stumbling through my days as if I were a thousand miles away.