Sick day / National holiday
Hey, Ray visited and got my whole room sick. Thanks Ray!
Today it was sunny and mild and I did not have to go to work. I woke up and fell back asleep and woke up again. I danced around to a Thelonious Monk record. I brushed my teeth three times. Trader Joe’s was empty, and I bought avocados and did pirouettes with my shopping cart. Unappetizing fluids leaked out of my nose and mouth and I replaced them with soup and tea and water and orange-colored syrup from a plastic bottle.
Something they do not tell you, however, about spending long periods of time alone in your small studio apartment: the intense craving that arises to see physical objects move on their own. Dead leaves, fat buses, pedestrians; rising steam, magic spirits, traffic lights. The primal yearning for motion is almost certainly exacerbated in the digital age, when the displacement of tiny jots of liquid light constitutes the only physical action many US adults get to witness on weekdays from nine to five, because today a book clattering inexplicably from its shelf was for me an event.
