My computer has temporal confusions. At the top it reads, 9:45 PM. The internal, archaic clock, summoned by a click on the mouse, with the hour, minute and spinning second hands, reads 2:45 PM San Francisco. If I sent you an email now it would say it was written at 4:39 AM April 23, 5 hours and 54 minutes from now.
Tomorrow. Doesn’t that sound full of possibility? The first day of the rest of your life, etc. If you read it tomorrow, say after you shower, you probably will wonder why I’m sending such trivia at such an armpit hour, maybe even pity me for what appears to be wretched restlessness or worse, insomnia brought on by suffering, mental or physical. The more optimistic among you, on the other hand, might envy what appears to be a loose, not to say lax, lifestyle allowing me to delve the night with the wide-awake, actual possums, liberated from the tyrant Tick-tock. There’s bound do be some hermetic insight rooted out that all you sensible early-to-beds miss out on.
Now I’m being optimistic since you all know me, that now as the digital clock on the top reads 10:31 PM, a voice is saying it’s past your bedtime and you need to brush and floss and do all of the tedious humdrum stuff you always do prior to sleeping like the dead.