even yet still more time dilation

jet lag is surreal. i suppose i usually spend a lot of time waiting for the rest of the world to wake up, whether travelling or at home... i've kept such hostile hours for so long, it's likely caused permanent damage. the darkness here does not help... 3 hrs to daylight and it's almost 8am.
i've been reading more iris murdoch:
"every man needs two women, a quiet home-maker and a thrilling nymph."
"yes, and that suits them too. women are an alien tribe, they are not like us, they understand themselves through us, like plants and animals, we make them exist, they are, quite unconsciously, terrifying, they are sibyls, priestesses, queens of the night, they are frightened of themselves, they need a man to calm them and make them into friendly deities."
her men are always pompous, self-delusional blusterers; her women hold their wisdom and sexuality like a fucking gift to be doled out selectively. not far removed from reality, really...
*
the past month has punched me in the face, only to kiss my swollen lip tenderly and say "jus' kiddin'... love you, baby." it was unnerving to realize how much fucking primal terror i had on reserve- how i went from blithely living to wild-eyed life-reassessment. an inaccurate medical diagnosis will do that. for three weeks i felt like i was going to lose everything i loved, everything i've lived for... it's all good, i'm fine, i never felt anything but fine, but god damn. for all my prattling about "appreciating!" and "feeling so fortunate!" i can still reflect on select moments and think "that's fucking wasted time i will never get back."
i am embracing the details, especially here, as much as i can. because i could get hit by a bus. a meteor. people i love may go away. security will dissipate. you will forget the sound of my voice. i will forget the way you laugh. i will regret not sucking up every fucking drop from the moment.
like: when i arrived in iceland: the immigration man didn't even glance up or speak whilst stamping my passport. the group of us huddled in the vestibule hallway bundling up. an american in front of me in line laughed at a man throwing a fit about something- "didja see that?" he chortled. "jeez." the air was cold and dry and windy and darkness stretched indefinitely. i was in a place with unknown borders, landmarks, anything familiar. i got on the bus to reykjavik and turned on my headphones- shuffle- i wanted the world to provide. amon duul "archangel thunderbird" was the first song i heard in iceland. it fit. pitch black. smiling anonymously. i had tears in my eyes. i was so fucking proud to be here- so grateful that i have the kind of life that allows awesome shit like this to happen. is this what other people call 'religion'? anyway... those are the moments. believe me, i'm sucking the drops very greedily.
*
do something every day that makes that day different from any other day...
jesus, there's probably a more concise way to phrase that...
*
last night i saw a single huge firework from my window.