The Ambien Brain

 This is something I wrote while on Ambien a couple weeks ago. I thought it was hilarious so now it's here.

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look:

I'M STAYING AWAKE FOR THE DOUBLE FEATURE!

observe: hindered ability to perceive location. i actually thought i was at 110 s quarry for a moment.

Shapes do not assume their general movements when moved. These fuckers are unpredictable and must not be trusted at face value.


Interruption by the old woman faces in the towels. They don't even bother speaking. Hags.

Dust flies menacingly, without destination.

weird shit's happening on the couch. First, I'm here. Second, there seems to be an array of multicolored dust particles masquerading as insects moving about to and fro on the screen of the monitor. This is madness. At least the silly neon aesthetic shit show happening right now renders it threatless.

So tired. Must sleep, right? Must close eyes.
MOMENT: I feel as if I'm moving in a car. I can see the outside of the wheel before anyone else can. Praire land and rolling hills beyond; this is what I imagine a long drive through Kansas to look like. Of all places, why would Ambien send me to Kansas? I want my money back.


I'm on the couch, not in my room, I can't just lay here passed out and making devillish noises at six in the morning. Come on Internet, hit be with your best shot.

Why am I not in bed? Christopherrrrr.

This is just silly now. I suspect I might have to go outside for a cigarette but god knows all the horrors which lie beyond the knowing caresses of this leather couch. Some air might do me nicely, though. Maybe just for five? I'll check facebook and try not to wig out if my profile picture is the repo man doing doughnuts in my car while giving me a menacing thumbs-up under the boom of some mixtape my mother made me.

Wait!


Best idea. Wish I could fucking remember two seconds later. Whatever.

Yo I love dat gentle crisp wind at the end of August. I feel immediately less terrible once treating myself to some fresh Commons air. I have cankers on my tounge and it hurts so good to smoke cigarettes again.


Who or what is alive at 6am on a Wednesday morning? Citizens, from what crevices do you crawl?

Does coffee exist at this time?

Ooh, I hear the dull groan of the TCat. I look north at the wheezing blue bus, dragon-like, passing the library and consider whether Gimme might be open. Probably not, the pansies.


Did Matt Broadhead actually talk to me through my open window on the fire escape or did I hallucinate that? What did we talk about? Probably how shitty Lewiston is. When in doubt, always talk about Lewiston, a city so festering in bitter nostalgia that its downtown Jenga-like stacks of faded bricks, broken windows, and barbed wire is held up by leaning hipsters or No Trespassing signs covered in graffiti.

My baby, Lewiston.

Won't someone put us out of our misery? What did we do to deserve this city? Sure, we spilled poison into our beloved Androscoggin, sat back in our lawn chairs while local government axed our unions, and pushed our children into crowded daycares to be raised by people more frazzled and disillusioned than ourselves.
But think about it: before the industry, we had nothing.


Aqua-blue dots in the corner of my eye. Why aqua? How tacky.


Ugh, Starbucks or Gimmie? Is that the same as deciding between Democrat and Republican? I think I'm still technically registered as a Green Party member. What was I thinking?