December 9th

“I suppose you’re going to write a haiku about diarrhea and then call it quits to watch a movie…”

Nope, I sort of wrote on my phone at work and so now I’ll probably ruin it by revisiting it in a new mindset, but that solves the issue of my mind going blank when I sit down at night to write something.

A Prayer for a Gentler America

Oh lord who art in Heaven, let my Amazon packages arrive by Christmas Eve. Let the eyesore homeless encampments be swept from my sight, pandemic be damned. Let all police officers know they are appreciated for all that they do that keeps us so safe whatever that is. Let racial harmony commence and let Democrats and Republicans respect each other again. Let the essential workers not get the virus and force their businesses to shutdown while they all quarantine. Let the protests end for they are not the answer.

The Reprieve of the Theater

I won’t miss my friends if I never speak to them again and what a relief to stop drinking myself to death in bars that have become death traps during the pandemic. But I catch myself longing for the silver screen. The only thing that can quiet my neurotic brain. How I dream of the day when I can once more melt my mind on multiple matinees. No more Netflix streams interrupted by the urge to check Twitter/check my bank account/check Patreon/check OnlyFans, and - less and less frequently - check Facebook. Or see if Tumblr is still dead. Or Google something-I-don’t-need-to-know-but-worry-I will-forget-if-I-don’t.

God, just give me a little celluloid, an excuse to leave the house. I have abandoned reading entirely as it is impossible to focus long enough to finish a single sentence while the Earth is on the precipice of annihilation and all “the grown ups in the room” don’t appear to intend to react in any meaningful way. I lie awake at night in bed with a pinball bouncing around inside my skull, but a movie would ease my worries just long enough to rest. I miss the stories, sure, but oh what a pleasure it is to drift off to Polish or French dialogue. The couch will have to suffice for now, but now I long to go somewhere where no one can reach me. How I yearn to calm my nerves even with a comedy film wherein all the jokes fall flat. The next time you call my name, the next time you ring my doorbell, the next time you call or text, I hope I won’t be available to respond.