1440

FOWARD

What you are about to read is neither fiction nor non-fiction. It is a new genre I have created called “delusional reality”. What follows is the real account of 1,440 minutes in the life of a non-fictional individual who shall remain nameless. The occurrences may or may not be recorded elsewhere, but that lack of verification in no way impinges on the reality described. The delusional parts are, of course, exempt from this certification. Read on. Take your time and enjoy the ride. Smell the roses and enjoy the scenery. Eat if you’re hungry and smoke ‘em if you got ‘em. (If you don’t smoke, do something else less injurious to your health.) See you soon.

Connor

0 THROUGH 60

I went to bed at exactly at the stroke of what the developed world refers to as “midnight”. I had just finished watching two hours of “The World’s Dumbest Criminals”. I don’t know what rating system the producers used, but these individuals are certainly more stupid (or is it stupider) than the average person. As I climb into bed I wonder if grammar was included as part of the rating system.

I’m not sure if it should be. Grammar is an arbitrary set of rules for communication enforced by a cabal of supposedly learned scholars who are long since deceased. Why should they control the way we speak and communicate? Who appointed them the rulers of the written and spoken word? Will I be safe if I pursue this to the upper levels of the intelligentsia? I fall asleep wrangling with this conundrum.

61 THROUGH 120

Sleep is fitful. I dream that a friend of mine, whom I shall call Patty, has murdered someone and my wife and I have, for some unknown reason, disposed of the body in a fairly careless fashion. Both sets of our fingerprints are on file with the State of New Jersey for various reasons and the responsibility for this crime will surely fall upon us. The dream ends without resolution.

121 THROUGH 180

I sleep peacefully. This is only an assumption because I am sleeping and am really not sure of my state of mind. I’d like to think I was sleeping peacefully, or is that what they want me to think?

181 THROUGH 240

I wake up and have to urinate. For yet another night I am in control of my bodily functions although who knows I how long I will be able to keep at bay the unrelenting degeneration of my faculties brought on by advancing age. I fall asleep once again, savoring my nocturnal victory.

241 THROUGH 300

I sleep. I have decided not to try and describe my state of mind. They may influence my sentence construction, but not my writing.

301 THROUGH 360

I wake up and have to urinate again. My wife lies quietly next to me and I check her breathing. I realize that I have not had the recurring dream of giant waves crashing on the beach while I am unable to escape. Have I, like Santiago, the old Cuban fisherman from “The Old Man and the Sea”, defeated the forces of nature that are only a metaphor for the struggles and trials and tribulations that life assigns us? Then I confuse myself by wondering why I am basing my personal philosophy on the ramblings of a poor, lonely, hermit barely eking out daily subsistence in a Third World country.

361 THROUGH 420

I sleep fitfully. I am briefly woken by the alarm clock. My wife dutifully rises to prepare for her employment so that we may have medical benefits and not have to rely on the kindness of strangers for our personal well being. I fall back asleep, but wake again, this time for good at exactly 420. The day’s adventures are about to begin.

421 THROUGH 480

At 425 I go downstairs and have a cup of coffee and a slice of Pumpernickel Rye with butter and two pieces of yellow American cheese. Ordinarily, I only have one slice of cheese, but my keen senses tell me that today is going to be full of adventure and whimsy so I decide to live on the edge heedless of the onset of constipation. My wife and I talk and watch a little bit of the televised news.

We watch a short bit about an insane woman with a “Mommy” complex who has had a ridiculous number of children. I walk away, my blood, boiling. I contemplate flying to California to rescue the world from her by filing a class-action lawsuit against her and the medical quack who impregnated her, and absconding with her children and driving through the heartland of this great country leaving these poor infants and their slightly older siblings on the doorsteps of farmhouses so that they could be raised by loving, hard-working, albeit dentally-challenged families. I quickly realize that this will take more than 1440 so I sit back down and seethe.

My wife leaves for work and I am alone.

481 THROUGH 540

I take a shower, brush my remaining teeth, dress, and go downstairs. I connect myself to the word-wide-web and see who has been trying to contact me in the past 540 minutes. Only a few new messages and none of any importance. I have not gotten any feedback from the White House regarding my plan for housing the urban poor in inner-city trailer parks nor of my recent critique of President-For-Life O’Bama. He’s got my phone number, but refuses to call me. Punk.

541 THROUGH 600

I spend 20 minutes writing what is written above and then I got bored. I’m taking a break right now surfing daytime television. I’m tempted to pop in the latest “Girls Gone Wild” DVD, but decide against it. At 552 I belly-crawl into the hallway and up the stairs. I sneak into the attic and tuck into my 360-degree outlook post in the center of the attic. From this position I have a clear shot of a small section of the trees behind my house and my neighbor’s mailbox across the street from the front of my house. The remaining 320-degrees is mostly sky.

601 THROUGH 660

I complete my surveillance and carefully sneak down into the basement to do some real work. I go through my notes on a residential building being constructed on the outskirts of Pittsburgh in a Camden-like town called Braddock.

661 THROUGH 720
I continue my work on the Braddock project. When my notes are incomplete, I rely on my memory, faulty as it is. When all else fails, I make stuff up.

721 THROUGH 780
I finish the report and break for lunch. I use the house phone in the basement to call my cell phone that lies on the kitchen counter in front of the rear sliding glass doors. It is in full view of anyone spying on me from the dense vegetation to the rear of my yard. I leave no message in case they are monitoring my cell phone. After making several similar calls and leaving (or not leaving) similar messages, I leave the basement and have lunch, satisfied that I have convinced anyone that may be watching that I am not at home since my cell phone was left unanswered for the past 25 minutes.

I then make lunch – tuna on rye with chocolate milk. My wife again has purchased Bosco instead of Hershey’s, my favorite. Some corrective measures will be required. Fortunately, my disappointment is eased by a re-run of “NYPD Blue” with Rick Schroeder as Sippowitz’s partner. (Is it one “p” or two?)

781 THROUGH 840

I cannot break the magnetic hold that “NYPD Blue” has on me. I am helpless to leave the couch until the second episode has been completed and Judge Joe Brown is about to begin. I race to the bathroom and discharge my bladder. Whew!

841 THROUGH 900

At 841 I start getting ready for my bike ride. I start to do the dishes and notice that the shade for the window over the sink is up. Are they watching me? I can’t be sure so I waste 10 climbing up onto the countertop and sliding my old tired body silently across toward the string of the shade. Like a Ninja, I silently lower the shade. I almost fall off the counter, but my cat-like reflexes save me. For an instant I am disoriented and think I am a Democrat. I quickly recite the “Pledge of Allegiance” and regain my senses.

At 871 I set out on my bicycle. If I’m lucky they’re still in the back trying to look through the shade. I am halfway up the block and realize that if they have heat-detecting equipment my ploy was for nothing. Damn technology! Damn Al Gore! I put the bike in low gear and pedal up the steep hill in front of my house with all the power my atrophied legs can muster. By the time I get to the top of the hill, my muscles are burning and cramps are setting in. At 873 I stop and stretch, hoping they haven’t noticed my get-away.

901 THROUGH 960

At first I am somewhat paranoid and try not to let “them” assassinate me with their VIN-less, stolen automobiles. Then I realize that I am not paranoid since there are really people after me. I just don’t know who they are – yet.

I arrive in a large farm area and I am alone. I have my CD player cranked up to the Beatles classic “Help” album, but I do not have the headphones plugged in. I need all my senses to avoid a possibly fatal attack. Birds fly from the tree tops and I sense danger. I get off my bike and slowly enter the woods, searching for the hidden would-be assassins. I search in vain, but this distraction is not without benefits as I take this opportunity to urinate. Satisfied that I am not being watched, I zip up and get back on my bike and head home.

961 THROUGH 1020

My wife is already home from work, the gym, and a visit to her elderly, but mentally alert mother. She is already cooking dinner and has started the laundry. I feel like a complete loser when I compare my meager days output with her. I often wonder if she is “sleeper” working on breaking my confidence down so as to make me more vulnerable to a surprise attack. I greet her warily and sit down to dinner.

We dine on grilled meat formed in a circular pattern that is placed on circular pads of baked flour. Various vegetable-based sauces are applied to the top surface. The completed meal is then eaten with the hands. My personal discipline is at an all time low and I make the mistake of consuming two barley and yeast based alcoholic beverages with the meal. The energy I exhausted on my bike ride coupled with the narcotic effect of the alcoholic beverages makes me sleepy. I elect to push past my drowsiness and remain alert. I feel my wife’s excellent cooking may have compromised my senses. Once again, I eye her warily.

1021 THROUGH 1080

I give up on trying to remain alert and resign myself to the fact that I will be assassinated in the near future by people and/or organizations unknown to me. I decide to take a nap and enjoy my last few moments in peace. Just as I am about to fall asleep, the “sleeper” they have so cleverly inserted into my life as my spouse nudges me into consciousness and demands that I vacate the couch and go upstairs to sleep on the bed. There is no doubt that she is hell bent on de-stabilizing my stability. In an effort to thwart their plans I do not go upstairs for a well-deserved late afternoon nap, but go back down to the basement to work.

1081 THROUGH 1140

I find that my body responds to the mental stimulation of my work. The incredible manual dexterity I have with my two-finger typing gets my heart pumping thereby providing an amazing cardio-vascular workout. I knock off a short report and prepare two invoices. The additional income will come in handy if I escape my impending assassination and need to live on the run. I have $456 stashed away in the basement in small unmarked bills. (Note: The bills themselves are not small, they are normal sized currency. The denomination of bills is small - $1’s, $5’s, and $15’s.) Preparation is the key to survival.

1141 THROUGH 1200

I start another short report, but feel the drain of the day catching up to me so I shut down my operations. I drag myself upstairs, stumble slightly near the top, but maintain my balance. My wife (aka the “sleeper”) feigns concern and rushes to the stairs. I throw myself past her to avoid possibly being pushed back down the stairs. We stare at each other and I picture her telling the police, “He was very tired from riding his bike to excess and getting drunk at dinner. He must have fell down the stairs and shot himself in the forehead on the way down.” I don’t know how much more tension my mind can take before I start hallucinating.

I start upstairs backwards, but am foiled by a low beam. My head aches, but I am still alive. I prepare my clothes for tomorrow. I will be ready at the crack of dawn to escape my humble abode and travel to New York City to perform so consulting work for a client. I am sure that this particular client is a double-agent, but I dn’t know which side she works for.

1201 THROUGH 1260

I take a few minutes to lie down on the bed before getting ready. I quickly fall asleep.

1261 THROUGH 1320

The few minutes drags on to more than a few minutes. (Actually, I am awake, but cannot think of anything to write for this segment. I think the falling asleep premise is plausible given the events of the day, so I am not concerned about the believability of the story.)

1321 THROUGH 1380

I wake up and start channel surfing. I watch the news and start to seethe once again seeing that the Octo-Mom is again on television. I try to remember to request California if I join the Witness Protection program. This way I can wreak havoc on her soon-to-be filmed reality show that will be titled, “Tons of Baby Shit”. I remind myself that I am not a witness and this wonderful government-sponsored program is closed to me. Undoubtedly, the forces arrayed against me know this. I make mental notes to stay alert tomorrow so that I might witness something that will entitle me to this enter this marvelous program.

Suddenly, Spanish subtitles appear at the bottom of my television screen and I do not know how to get rid of them. This chore had been performed by my son, but he no longer resides at home. I am tempted to call him and plead for help, but my phones are almost assuredly tapped. The foreign words on the screen disorient me and I sob quietly.

1381 THROUGH 1440

At 1381 I started preparing myself for the next day. It would be a very busy day and I needed to get an early start. I set the alarm for 430 and cringed at the lack of sleep I would be getting. Damn, me for wasting time! I’ll pay for that in the morning.

At 1395 I had finished laying out my clothes and toiletries and decided to watch the last 15 minutes of “Seinfeld”. Even though I had seen this episode many times including earlier this evening, it still brought a smile to my face. Due to the adult-oriented theme of the show, I cannot discuss it here.

At 1411 I shut the television and went to bed. My wife was already fast asleep. I put on my sleep mask, hooded sweatshirt, thermal-lined jogging pants, and curled up under the covers. If they tried to find me with heat-sensitive equipment, they’d have no chance. They’d only get the outline of my wife’s body and they would think that I had escaped past their well-defended perimeter. I tossed and turned and struggled with sleep. I regret that second piece of cheese with the morning breakfast and know I’ll be battling constipation tomorrow. I don’t remember exactly when it was that I fell . . .