Tuesday, April 21, 2020

On Minor Inconveniences

I imagine the cells in my laptops battery to be hexagonal honeycombs interlaced with lithium and nickle. And a few have flickered out and begun to wean away the light from their neighbors. The battery is a Light Brite clown plucked of a few red bulbs on its nose. Its just bad enough. Askew but functional like the door to the patio that is swollen from the faulty weather stripping. You have the shoulder the life out of it to close. I can never be unplugged for more than 40 minutes. I carry a 10 pound semi portable desktop around with me with less a lifespan than a mayfly.
The minor annoyances of privilege come forward during this time of plague and quarantine. I hate myself for them but they remain. I confess them in my journal, where no one is sure to read them.

"Dear Diary, today the motor on the electric pencil sharpener died. I had to dig through the junk drawer to find the manual one I had from senior year figure drawing. I had no clue we had so many markers. And packets of seed. And half dried glue. Now I need to go back out to the trash."

"Dear Diary, today in the work Slack chat no one gave a like to my meme."

"Dear Diary, I am afraid they are realizing at work how I can be replaced. I never expected it, but I never expected the plague."

"Dear Diary, the fish tank begun to leak and I lost it. No one saw it but I said a Nancy Kerrigan "WHY ME!?" to the barbs and cory cats living in there.

"Dear Diary, today I wrote in a voice that is hard to separate from my own. It remind me of the most cutting feedback I ever heard. "When I read your story, all I can think of is the college fitness center. And this shouldn't be the case. Your story shouldn't be so insular. Parasitic.'"

I try to follow the advice but everything comes as a caricature. Remember, parasitic. So a confident man is indubitably a player. The kind of guy who sharks pool halls and want to wager on the second of your friendly games. "Never fall for that," told me one of my mom's steady boyfriends as we left the pool hall. "Only play with people you know."

How have my character changed? Im not sure I have, yet.



No comments:

Long Night of Solace

I think I'm going to put the blog formally on hiatus. I've reached a comfortable nadir in my life, edging between depression and spu...