These Days

"You become too different, then you become a subversive mother." - Miss America in Woody Allen's "Bananas."

What if you become such a subversive mother, even you can't stand yourself?

I used to have a fantasy of waking each morning as a different person: a Chinese laborer, an American corporate titan, a poor girl in India, a Narco-Trafficker in Peru, a Thai massuesse, an Afghan Jihadi, etc. Each and every morning I would have a different body, a different mind, a different set of circumstances. Kind of like reincarnation on a daily basis. In my fantasy, there would be some little spark of continuity, a vague sense of "being here before," an odd deja vu, that hinted at other lives, other masters.

Would this ever-changing, transitory existence lead to a humbleness, a state of grace? Or would each day be a free pass to "do as you pleased?" Would it essentially be the same thing? I don't know. I never did anything with the idea...some mornings I think about it in a sort of wistful way...

"Why are you wearing that silly human suit?" - Frank in Donnie Darko.

That's the question for the day...and who will I be, and what will I do, and who will be watching, and what does it all add up to anyway? Yeah, I guess it's gonna be one of those kind of days...