Sometimes I forget. No: only rarely do I remember. Usually I'm lost in a clotted sea of forgetfulness. I spend whole months careening in a pachinko hell of teeming delusion without once opening my eyes. And it's not really forgetting, most of the time. It's not believing. A loss of faith. It's not okay, I'm not okay. How can it be? Just look around. Even now, when I've been granted a short timeout, I have no way of telling which is real life and which is the dream. I dream that I wake up.
Anyway, this is one of my touchpoints: a table at Doumar's. The magical glow of the ordinary. Of course, if I continue to eat at Doumar's, I'll die sooner. God has such a shallow sense of humor.