Does time slip?
by Matt Worley
The sun was inching closer to actually being above the horizon when I went to work on Saturday morning. When I go to work on Monday, however, the sun will be nowhere in the vicinity of lighting our sky. And I have to wonder if this changing of the clocks didn't mess with the heads of everyone in the world (except Arizona--they don't celebrate Daylight Savings Time) last week. Obviously things were happening too fast on the sun coming up front, and everything had to be fixed. For once, I will site examples of the screwiness of last week.
The Kansas City Royals, perennial punching bags of the American League since their 1985 World Series win, went 3-2 in their first five games. They even took their ESPN televised first game from Baltimore on Tuesday. Granted, their other two victories have been against Minnesota. But they were come from behind victories--a sure sign of life. And even though I only know half of the names of the players on this years team, I'm not dreading the morning box score scan anymore.
And then there was Wacky Wednesday. Luckily, the judge in Arkansas didn't announce her decision to dismiss the Paula Jones civil suit until after second deadline was long dead and gone. I got home at 2:30 in the afternoon, about ten minutes after the announcement hit CNN. So while it didn't mess up my day, it brought up a bunch of other questions. Like this one: If the Paula Jones case has nothing to do with the Monica Lewinsky case, how did Ken Starr find out about Monica? Or how about this one: Is it illegal to lie about having sex under oath if the lawsuit one was asked to testify (and possibly perjure oneself) about doesn't exist? If a tree fell in the woods and only the tree and ground felt the impact, should we still sue?
And here's one question for those who were surprised about Clinton's impromptu cigar smoke/bongo solo upon hearing about the Jones dismissal: What would you do if you won the lottery? Clinton was actually very restrained, I think.
I wrote previews for a couple of bands who were supposed to grace the Albuquerque bar scene last week--one on Tuesday and one on Friday. Both bands experienced car trouble and had to cancel. For next week's trick, I'm just gonna make up a story about a made up band, tell everyone to go to the show, and then shrug and say, "I guess the car broke down," when the made up band doesn't show. I'm not really bitter, but this weird coincidence isn't helping my state of mind at all.
Appearing at the Launchpad on Thursday night in the Big Q: The Dancing Mowglis. They're an incredible mix of punk rock and electronic sampling. The singer is really cute and has a half-octave vocal range. And a DJ plays before the set so everyone can dance. Get there early. The guitarist likes to drool while he plays. Sometimes he can get a stream of spit going from his bottom lip all the way to the floor if he works on it hard. Amazing live show--if you miss this one, you'll be kicking yourself for days. I better be on the list, dammit!
Okay, so maybe it has nothing to do with Daylight Savings Time. Maybe crazy stuff happens every week, and the time the sun comes up and goes down does nothing at all to the human psyche. But before you totally dismiss my ramblings, I will tell one more strange story about last week.
Saturday night, before the time change, I saw Deconstructing Harry once again. Somehow life makes sense after a Woody Allen movie, and this film is particularly poignant to me. Yes, I have problems. And maybe issues. Problems and issues. But as I stood in line at the Frontier (a diner-like 24 hour joint across from the university in the Big Q) after the flick, I saw a friend I hadn't seen in years. One of those friends I used to hang out with a lot before she got a steady boyfriend. She's still got the boyfriend, still working in the same place, still looks the same.
And even though I had a different story to tell (different job, haircut, etc.), I still couldn't shake the feeling that time was screwing with me. Somehow time was just slipping along and forgetting to include the travel plans in a handy packet. I couldn't get in the flow. And losing the flow that binds life with time is not something one wants to do on a regular basis. There are rules, y'know. Forward progress is constantly mapped and charted. Unfortunately, I forgot to take the map class in college.
But I think I've got it licked now. This whole time thing. I stayed up too late, slept in too late, and somehow everything is clicking once again. The real test will be tomorrow morning when I have to drive to work in the dark once again. Of course, that's the way I like it.
Matt Worley is an idiot.
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