82 - Blurry blobs of feelings. joneworlds@mailbox.org Even though everyone in this colony wears the same brown robes and has the same hair (none), it is men and women and etc. all together. That brings with it all the good and less good things you can think of with that arrangement. But it's not like this group is all strict and ascetic in how we interact with each other, and so it's actually sort of fun living here. As long as you also like eating oatmeal, I guess. And memorizing lots of stuff, for our buryings. I'll write more about that sometime soon. But the weirdest thing for me these days, is my memory of stuff. I don't know if it's that strangely-flavored something they put in the food or what. But it's like my recollection of my life before I came here is getting, I don't know, foggy? I remember living in that camper in Burloo, but I'll be darned if I can remember the name of the guy in the house there that I worked with. Or even exactly what I was doing, I think it was something to do with plumbing. I feel like I'm losing details every day. And I know I lived somewhere else earlier this year, and I had some friends, and before that a family, and something happened to them, and it was bad. I think. I recollect something of phases and transitions, but somehow I cannot remember names or places or the look of things, or anything specific. It's all just blurry blobs of feelings standing in for a thing that must have happened, but I can't tell what. Now that I'm recovering and socializing more with the colony members in the main hall, sometimes I try to join the conversation. Somebody says something they did the other day, repairing one of the vans for instance. And it reminds me of something about a truck I think I once owned. And I start to say something, but I got to stop. Because when I go to recall, all the pieces are missing and I got nothing to say. I think it's not just me. I see that look in the others. It's like they are listening, and they lean forward like they want to add something, and then they look confused and embarrassed and stay quiet. It's that same kind of look people get when they think they recognize someone, but then they see it's actually not them. Maybe that's why all the talk here is kind of small and circular. It's like everyone tells the same jokes over and over, and you talk about yesterday and the day before, and that's all. Not that I mind that much. You know, living in the moment and all that.