A Phantasmagoria in – January

2:00 AM

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The imperishable nights of January – oh how you vex me into staying awake, with the cold air biting at my toes, the lingering smell of spices and cooking oil that got circulated through the air vents, and that incessant tapping I hear from the ceiling, that breaks rhythm every now and then just to vex me further from slipping into my quiet reverie.

Tap. Tap.

Only two taps? Where is th-

Tap.

There it is, we all thought you lost your nerves and couldn’t jump. Around this time of night at 2:39 AM, in this invariable cold weather and rain (approximately), the taps of water usually come down in threes. I know because I’ve studied them, with a growing sample size of now 8 nights. By the end of January, I’ll have course credits in both fluid dynamics and an academic literary study of Vladimir Nabokov. I even have my clever opening line for my thesis: “Tap. tap. tap: the drip of a single droplet taking a dip of three drops down the palate to tap, at three, on the tabletop.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.   Tap. Tap….Tap.

But alas, if only sound of these triplets were as rhythmic as Jeremy Irons’s “Lo-lee-ta,” as every now and then, there is that one bead of water that refuses to drop. Twas a cheeky, yet futile move to cling on for so long, as gravity eventually wiggled and writhed that previous bead of water out of its wintermolecular forces with the wetting agents on the ceiling. That bead of water has been quite the rapscallion in not only throwing my sleep in disarray, but also holding up the queue of the other busy droplets that might now have to cancel their plans for the night – a truly imperishable night to lay awake on your bed and hear the beads of water in bedlam.

Over a period of an uncountable amount of time, I stopped blaming that one black sheep for throwing off my count in falling asleep. It couldn’t help having maybe stronger colligative properties than the previous bead of water.

Tap. Tap. Tap.   Tap. Tap….Tap.

To become the better man, I let it be. I tried my best to brush off the tapping, and for a while, I was at peace. Then the water nation attacked. dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnn

6:00 AM

Alright, I’ma just cut the writing (cuz it got cheez-E lol) and just jump straight into why I’m writing up until 6:00 AM at night over winter break. I didn’t realize this, but the taps I’ve been hearing weren’t from the outside, but rather against the plastic cover over the light bulbs in my room, and water was leaking through the orifices of the electrical circuits. No drop of water ever thinks it is responsible for the flood, and because of this ignorant looking water, I woke up to a cascade of water splashing my entire room. So now, I’m awake, cold as hell, with no bed, writing about a stupid drop of water I feel real salty about, ya naw sayin? Tried to personify the water, give it some character traits and maybe a background story you can relate to, but nahhhhhhh, screw  that, I just realized why awake writing this in the first place. I hate this weather, and the rain dat be comin with it. Aight, i’m outie. Tonight gunna be living on as a phantasmagoria in January (name dropped the title of the blog, omgg) that I will never truly forget, or forgive.

Note:

Forgive my absence, school happened :'(. The time I wanted to invest in writing went into dance and research, which isn’t so bad I guess, but the streak is over, and the dream is dead….

But maybe not for long! I’m taking Introduction to Fiction & Poetry this semester, so maybe if I write something good, I’ll post it here :3.

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