Where does a 600-pound Gorilla sit?

I was hoping for an unremarkable but fun Christmas. Then my sister pulled a Debra from Empire Records and shaved her head at the hippy Christmas party we went to.

Oh my.
-Juli

So emotive. Always crying, laughing, loving. What a well-rounded drink. Perfect after a meal, between meals, and as a substitute for a meal. It fires me up and boils me down. Kicking my stomach into action, I can feel the calories froth up and fill my mind with wondrous ideas and beliefs. Searing my circuits together, connecting mind with body, and reforging my soul, coffee challenges all concept of understanding. If you were to look coffee straight in the eye, then all you would see is a mountain made made of folded sand paper. A flat plane transformed into a cone that forms a sharp peak. Once there, the land far and wide can be seen. What you see is merely a reflection of your personality doubled upon itself. Warped, shaped, and bent into an ideal version where concepts and conclusions seem so real and the next day is as good as the next moment. All points are relative. All doubt escapes your blazing and all-seeing eye.

Is it possible for there to be anything better? What could cause the next hour to die? How can you even conceive of falling into some rocky valley. When did that other person think such horrible thoughts about life and work? In what world could that be the you of the now? Simply without comprehension or understanding. This new confidence is your motivation for everything you do. Stimulating your senses beyond the norm. You type with each finger moving like an individual scorpion's tail. Like a fencer piercing through the fabric of an opponent and exposing them for a rotten corpse. Your wit unmoved and unashamed, crossing uncounted miles and establishing colonies of thought beyond the reach of the ignorant or unappreciative. When your mind builds to this point, the mad dash kicks in. Cotton fills the eye sockets and rubs away the fluid that once oiled the unstoppable machine.

A new wave floods in. A choking and wheezing laugh. A new hope that stretches as far as it can go. This hope is no where as infinite as it once had thought to have been. The conception of what that hope is, however, might be playing a trick. That conception, not necessarily false, but certainly only fueling new doubts. These doubts, small and scattered across your bull elephant brain, start to disrupt the once high-octane momentum. Harmony now cools down to a zombified repetition. Work while the working's good, eh? Don't be ridiculous, the mind's still got a good amount of punch going for it. Just gotta put a little more effort behind filling the page. Just gotta stop and think about finishing this line. Just gotta push a little more to wrap up the good before the garbage washes down. The well certainly isn't dry. Ideas are still coming easy. They just wait there for the picking.

Bend with your knees. Breath deeper. Think clearer. Rub your eyes. Assess your situation. Cry. Laugh. Go for broke. Why is it all so predictable? What is thought? Where did it go? The subtext is now just the text. It runs like a ticker. Now it is down to merely reporting how the process always seems to fail its user.

God, where did the time go?