CRAIG CHAMPION - THE FIRST TWO MINUTES
The offhanded and impulsive writing for this work? It’s is in the work, as viewed. To reproduce it would be vain. Removing having to pick through the disjointed presentation would do nothing but whitewash the experience of the read, a spiraling mind in need of help. A mind that counted on the first two minutes of every day to mark some sanity with process and ritual. This is firsthand visual, context not supplied through the filter of a levelheaded memory that went something like this…
When I saw mountains of toilet paper toppling out of shopping carts I saw the truth! Skeletons busting down closet doors. Justifiable deviancy to feel normal. Humanity on three wheeled roller skates. A moment of authentic balance. The pandemic had the world on pause, and for a moment it aligned my greater emotional frequency to a soothing hum. Or so I thought.
There was no stopping it because it just… was. Ironic timing is comedic gold or pain. Suddenly my worst shit I’d stuffed away in the darkest places wanted out. It was like being in an exceptionally violent car crash. I had no say. It just started happening to me. The lovely, soothing hum became warped noise and static, and the assault began.
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