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Subject:

Fish Bowl

Author:
Joshua

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Date Posted: 00:30:57 09/04/04 Sat

Scanning my body for the specific sensations in this moment of being stuck I picture myself as a some wayward Loony Toon that's gotten his cranium impossibly squeezed into the round, translucent fishbowl of his arch nemesis and prospective lunch, the overly-confident and peturbingly clever goldfish. Eyes open the world looks skewed: stretched and obtuse. I close my eyes and I feel and hear the sound of my forhead softly banging on the unexpectedly thick glass with every twitch of my neck. Oxygen is otherwise cutoff except for a small space under and behind my jawbone. And because my nose is flattened against my face closing off the nasal passages I'm force to give a wide and slighting ajar smile as I release my diaphagm to feed my lungs. And this is the face which I must keep to continue to breathe.

Everywhere I go. Every promise of action I make I can't seem to unstick my head. Eventually, though I make efforts, to work myself through the frustration of myself, to new thoughts, sensations and experiences, my minds view never seems to alter, but simply re-translates the incoming info and pastes it over the inside of the glass as floating footnotes of already blurred images. I'm trying to figure out how to yank this hyperbaric suction cup over my head and see and feel a world I have faith must exist. The only thing I can think to do right now is simply to feel with the rest of my body and see if it can juice the dry spots in and around my crown to give me enough slip to slide this sucker off.

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