Life is an ocean of mixed signals.
One moment, you ride high on the waves of your own chemicals:
You hang ten; you mug around; you are the big Kahuna.
The next, the tide makes you its bitch.
You eat sand; feel the coral reefs rise up and stab you.
I realize this has nothing to do with contrails.
Like, at all.
The mixed metaphor, however, feels appropriate to illustrate the mixed signal. Of all the things that sit gingerly in the Not In Control category, the visual/written confusion may help most of all.
And loss of control should feel jarring and a little odd and not totally intentional, but intentional enough that you’re left feeling frustrated and like you perhaps really meant to say something else and, in retrospect, you really should have proofread this before hitting “publish” because even though confusion and stream-of-consciousness is kind of your bag and apparently that one last entry when you were intentionally confusing and got off on a tangent about Hollywood actors was quite funny and, in fact, hit a few funny bones, there is absolutely no guarantees that it’ll happen again and dammit, you’ve gone on record about how much you hate run-on sentences.
So, you know, it’s either that, or I just managed to confuse myself again.