I have not slept for 36 hours. While your brain has been chewing on sleep I’ve been wide awake watching TV shows and forgetting my face. Yeah, now, I finally come to the point. I don’t recognize my face.

What do you mean I don’t recognize my face? I mean exactly that dumbo. Right now, I’m staring at a face in my bathroom mirror which apparently sits on my neck and torso but I cannot fucking recognize it. Do you get it now? Or should I hand you a web browser for a second opinion. Wait…back up a minute and let’s go back a bit. Do you see it? No? Read it again you moron. Yeah, you got it now, I said my bathroom mirror. So I seem to know that I’m in my bathroom but I do not know ‘my’ face. Does that make any sense? No? Ok, let us go back to what I’ve written again. No, not that sentence again but whatever I’ve written until now. I’m sleep deprived. So excuse the crankiness.

One small clue that does not explain anything. So let me go back to that thought that I left unfinished. I’m staring at a face that is sitting on a body that is staring back at me in the mirror and is not mine. Don’t doctors just love stating the obvious! Why did I forget what is seemingly my own face? Have I gone mad? Reasonable question. When you have checked out upstairs and vacated the space anything can move in. But I have not checked out. I can rationalize my situation, talk about it and even record it. Perhaps I’ve undergone some kind of injury and am suffering from some kind of delusion and experiencing all of this in my head. Possible but scary. Real scary. Let us not go there yet.

Ok, first, where am I? Describe my surroundings. Alright, I’m in a bathroom as I already stated. I’m looking into an oval shaped bathroom mirror that has a face in it. Ha! Got you there, didn’t I? I love stating the obvious. All right, moving on, below the mirror is a ceramic washbasin with stainless steel taps. Yawn, I’m already getting bored with this. Basically, what you have around me is a fairly generic bathroom and toilet with a washing machine, shower stall and some toiletries. The washing machine is a bit interesting though. It has clothes in it. No, wise ass, I’m not making fun of you! Will you listen and stop stating the obvious? The clothes have been washed but have not been taken out to dry. From the state of things they seem to have been washed more than a week back. So perhaps I, if this is indeed my bathroom, am a lazy pig. Doesn’t help or change my situation. But hey, here’s something new, did I mention the door?

No? Sorry, I just did not want to state the obvious again. So if there is a door there must be something beyond it right. I just have to open the door and see what is beyond. Wait…wait…not so fast. What if danger lurks beyond the room? What if I open the door and a gaping chasm is waiting there ready to swallow my sorry ass? Or what if I open the door and stumble upon a crime scene? Perhaps I’ve killed someone and have come here to wash the tainted clothes. Or perhaps I’ve just witnessed a gruesome murder and have come into the bathroom to hide. So maybe the killer is still out there, standing still by the door with a sharp kitchen knife to plunge into my useless heart the moment I open the door. I do have an exciting imagination, don’t I, for someone who has been sleep deprived? But hey I like to cover all the bases. So here goes nothing. I open the door.

And nothing happens ladies and gentlemen. No waiting dead bodies. No falling into emptiness. No hands clamping down on my mouth.

It is a simple ordinary room.

To my left is a TV stand with a TV (obviously) and other assorted AV equipment. To my right is a couch with a book shelf next to it. Behind the couch is a dining table and next to it is a refrigerator. Separated from the refrigerator by a thin wall is the kitchen. Beyond the refrigerator is a door which presumably leads outside. All right one door at a time Suzie Q. Let us stick with what we have so far. Unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink, left overs from the previous meal on the dining table and lots of books in the bookshelf. Nice books by the way. Quite an assorted collection. Some Tolkien, some Borges, some Adams and some philosophy. The guy who owns these books seems to be my kind of guy. Uggh! Did I just say that? That sounds so gay, doesn’t it? Live with it idiot. Moving on, on the bookshelf there are keys, two pairs of spectacles and voila, a wallet! Pay dirt my dear friends. Sorry if the mystery is solved so soon but here is where I get my face back to put it a bit dramatically.

Open the wallet and what do I find? The access codes to Valhalla’s main gate! Isn’t that a kicker? No need to die in a bloody and vain battle to gain the codes. No sweat expended and no blood spilled. Just plain good fortune. Admittedly, I’ve slipped into fantasy again. So coming back, I find no money and a student id with a photo of the face I saw in the mirror in the bathroom a little while back. So I guess this is me in the photo staring back at me, indifferent and unsmiling. Looks like my name is Linac Derdy. What a weird name. My parents must have been smoking pot when they dropped that name on me. No wonder I cannot recognize my face. With a name like that I’d want to uncouple my name from my face. Or vice versa. Who the hell cares! Take your pick.

So what comes next? There is a bottle of vodka on the table. And to make life even better there is a bottle of limette next to it. All I need is some water and life will be great. Hey, I’m not an alcoholic. Settle down. I’m just going to drink in the hope that it will jog my memory. No, that is not an excuse to get drunk. Come on, here I’m under immense psychological duress having forgotten my face. I do need to relax. Ah, you sucker! Got you, didn’t I? You are such an easy mark. But come on, I do need a strong shot to settle my flashing nerves.

Mmm…the vodka tastes good. Vodka, in my worthless opinion, is the king of all alcohols. Whiskey smells too bad while wine is only good for seducing a woman. Let us not even go towards rum and brandy. I take another sip. The false warmth of the vodka travels from the back of my throat and settles with a soft hum at the base of my stomach. I close my eyes and savor the delicate feeling. The gentle buzz that only the first shot of alcohol can give. The reflective tangent that thoughts begin to take. The impulse to dim the lights. The urge to create. And above all the overwhelming desire to unite with the music.

Ah, I did not mention the music right. Well, the moment I took a sip of the vodka a song started playing in the background. It is a familiar song. Wait, give me a second. I’ll get it. Ah, yes. It is Radiohead’s Climbing Up The Walls. I should have recognized that sonorous opening drum sequence sooner. Hmm…do you think there is a significance behind the choice of this particular song? But wait, more importantly, how did the song start playing like that?

Woah, wait, did you listen? To the lyrics paisan. Here, let me sing them again:

I am the key to the lock in your house
That keeps your toys in the basement
And if you get too far inside
You’ll only see my reflection

I am her face when she sleeps tonight
I am the pick in the ice
Do not cry out or hit the alarm
We are friends till we die

Either way you turn
I’ll be there
Open up your skull
I’ll be there
Climbing up the walls

Jesus! This is seriously insane. The song seems to be talking about my situation so well it is eerie. Perhaps it is a clue. I take a long swig of the vodka. So what do I do now? Open the other door and explore what lies beyond. But I’ve done enough exploring for now. I need to figure out the cryptic lyrics first. So if I sleep now will I wake up as the face of a woman? Or is it yet another sign that I’ve truly gone insane? Oh, wait a second. Something is happening here. I feel weird. And drowsy. This can’t be the vodka taking effect. It is way too soon for that. I feel something slipping aside inside like the turning of a page. There must have been something in the vodka. Or in the limette. Everything seems so fluid and flexible. It seems to be shifting. I can feel the skin rippling under my fingers. Features seem to be morphing. Facial hair is receding and coming up in different areas. There is a sudden epiphany that bursts like a cracker in my head.

Oh god no, I’ve become…