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TorgoX (1933)


"Il est beau comme la retractilité des serres des oiseaux rapaces [...] et surtout, comme la rencontre fortuite sur une table de dissection d'une machine à coudre et d'un parapluie !" -- Lautréamont

Journal of TorgoX (1933)

Saturday December 28, 2002
07:35 PM

Empty Places

[ #9656 ]
Dear Log,

A strange sensation comes over me now and then. It's a sort of deja-vu, but only sort of. It is basically the sense that I am in a different city. It's as basic a feeling as the sense of whether it's day or night outside. Sometimes it's even accompanied by a sense of being in another time besides another place. Today, even tho I'm soundly in Albuquerque at the end of 2002, I have the intermittent feeling of being in 1991, in some part of Los Angeles -- say, Sherman Oaks. I've no idea what's brought this on.

Adding to the oddness, I went to the diner down the block today for breakfast, and two guys sat down at the next booth and were chatting. I glanced over and was astonished to see that one of them was almost the spitting image of "Bob" from Twin Peaks, even down to the wardrobe and hair (altho his hair wasn't as grey as Bob's was). I was prepared for anything except what actually happened: "Bob" and his friend resumed their conversation, wherein Bob waxed rhapsodic about Rush and Tolkien -- and all this in a weird US accent that I couldn't place -- Coloradan?

I fled.

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