Groundhog Day

6:46 am.

I woke up and wished that I was dead 

With an aching in my head

I lay motionless in bed

I thought of you and where you’d gone

And the world spins madly on

Actually, I’ve already been awake for–I don’t know, an hour? And it’s been a vaguely crappy hour. Not as bad as these lyrics by The Weepies, but they’re salient here, and I was just about to take an all natural sleeping capsule and make myself get a few more hours before another day of what would inevitably be I_just_wish_it_would_stop #everysecondofthisisshittastic every waking moment I’m alive. (Moving on to Citizen Cope here, as you may have recognized.)

I was thinking about going back to sleep but it became a toss-up, a 50/50 chance, a lock-step confusion with myself. I grabbed the phone of my nightstand and checked the time. 6:46 am, *Groundhog Day*. I’ve never seen Groundhog Day. Groundhog Day is on my list. I guess, let’s get up, put on something other than these fuzzy snowman pajamas, and figure out how to locate a copy of this DVD. Or watch it in teeny tiny clips on YouTube. Let’s fucking do Groundhog Day, you guys.

7:41 am.

My laptop battery is on 21% and also the port where you plug in the recharging cord is dented; it requires complicated manual finagling to make tiny magnetic bumps meet prongs, or whatever’s in there. The battery icon on the screen looks like it’s recharging, but the light on the wire doodad isn’t lit. I put that aside to see if it was recharging, and went to brush my teeth. Right now, the rechargeable toothbrush is the only thing working at 100%, and that’s because it’s new–like, bought yesterday, new. My iPhone has been cracked and banged around–Instagram is all bokeh, and Safari pages are taking like 30 seconds to load. In other words, my recent tech run-in’s are making this season as time-wastingly, shit-tastically, frustratingly psychologically debilitating as when I was still using PC’s, and before the iPhone was invented. Life can go eff itself right now, and please don’t snort at me through your red rum, children. It’s the perfect annoying set-up to force me to reprise 2006-2008. Now, I haven’t seen Groundhog Day, but I know it’s about deja vu’ing through the crap-fertilized tulips, and that’s just about where I am at right now. Laptop now on 18%. And let’s see if I can get a WordPress app to be able to update from the iPhone of Dr. StrangeJill. …And locate an actual DVD of Groundhog Day.

I’ve already missed the actual Groundhog Day Celebration at the Staten Island Zoo–I just checked on the iPhone while I was brushing my teeth. I would have gone. I want to integrate the local events and jaunts into journalism into my essay process. I want to be Joan Didion, goddamnit. But anyhow, Staten Island Chuck (who’s actually a female) made her appearance at 7:30 am, without Mayor de Blasio showing up to drop her. (The previous groundhog who held the honorary name “Staten Island Chuck” was dropped by the Mayor in 2014 and died soon after.  A groundhog previous to her actually bit Mayor Bloomberg.) Things get very literally Groundhog Day here in Staten Island. Groundhogs attack mayors, get dropped, die. Staten Island is a great place to write about movies without ever getting to write about the movie.

 

8:02 pm.

“Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today!”

 

8:08 pm.

“What would *you* do, if you wee stuck in one place, and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?”

 

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