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Showing posts from January, 2018

My hand looks like a giant flea

When, after four whole weeks, my illness still drags on, I reach a point of decision. I determine, reasonably, I believe, to confine – or rather, perhaps, to consign – myself to the bed, in order that I might either sleep myself to health or else be done with it once and for all to give up the ghost.
In bed with me, I’ve got some water, Mucinex, a bottle of wine, the TV remote, toilet paper in lieu of Kleenex, The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman, and an enormous pair of wireless headphones. That’s all.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
Maybe always.
Deep inside my head, in the part of me where I’ve always assumed my brains to be, something crackles and whines. It goes o-o-on and o-o-on, surprisingly loud, really, until finally, I open my eyes up and catch a glimpse of my hand.
It does not appear real. My hand, I mean. I can see too much of it maybe, and too clearly. All the sides at once and the colors are all wrong.
My hand looks like a giant flea.
The legs twitch against …

Approaching Ludditia

First there was the car. The new car. This would have been maybe two years ago, or nearly. I’d never had automatic windows before that, or automatic locks, I mean remote locks, or one of those digital speedometer things, you know, and my car tells me when the air in one of my tires is low.
These were all great big changes for me, from my old car, but nothing really changed. It was the way I got to work and to my parents’ house and to some other places too, sometimes, and from. I notice something and what I notice is three weeks is all it takes until the new things become routine and you stop noticing and that’s when the old things become the old days.
Except Jamie leaving. Jamie leaving takes longer.
In November, I got a smart phone. Before that, I had a dumb phone, which was fine, a dumb phone was just fine, except for the screen stopped working and then I couldn’t tell anymore who was calling me. I accidentally answered the phone for people I did not wish to talk to and so I had to bu…

Some random hashtag

The thing about the firemen was – and there were very many of them by this point, you understand – I knew exactly why they were there, which made it bad enough, obviously, unacceptable, but still I went on with my day. I bit my tongue. Figuratively, I’m saying this. I hardly ever truly bite my tongue, if you have to know, or just rarely.
Then more firetrucks. I could see them through my mini-blinds which are the things across my windows. The firetrucks were red only more like the red from when I was a kid, not like the kind of red that exists now. There were red firetrucks and then there was the black car and also the men in the suits and ties, who I knew to be arson investigators because I know a government worker when I see a government worker, always.
This was too much.
In my blue pajamas, I ran outside, across to my neighbor’s yard where there were still embers burning. I yelled at the arson investigator – the one who was bald and with a scar – yelled at him, “Okay! Okay! I know wha…