The stink of death is fading. Perhaps in another day it will be undetectable. One is happier with undetectable death, of course. Ignorance is bliss.
I spent a very lazy Saturday that rolled along without seeming change, the dull light steady, the cold damp invariable. Sometimes it is o.k. BIG confession--I let this play all day (link). Don't judge me. I swear, I thought it was raining outside. It made good napping noises. I burned a candle that smells of mahogany and vetiver. I know. A hater's got to hate, but it made my day better. It was a day for textures, and I've plenty of those.
By nightfall, I was ready for bed. I binge watched on demand mindless t.v. about the trashy gentility of Charleston. My brain just wan't up for any challenges.
But I read this morning's news. Why? I can't seem to help myself. I approach it as a job, really, reading through too many stories I needn't. I've pretty much limited my consumption of opinion pieces or any story with a question as it's tagline. I try to stick to factual reporting, but even that often ends in speculation. My favorite part of looking at the e-news is sending weird snippets to friends. I am judicious, sending certain things to certain people. Not everyone shares all my sensibilities. There are not so many who share any of them, really. But there are people who will tolerate my insouciant troublemaking. C.C. and Q have been my favorite targets, and I have had to quarter my output even there. I must give up the morning news. It is no longer informative nor entertaining.
Life seems to become a steady slow thonk of ideologues and idiots. Oh. . . I include myself, hater. I know I'm an idiot. Let's talk about you.
I haven't seen my mother in ten days or so. I don't think she likes it. I tried to cheer her up last night saying that once we've had our second vaccination, we will rent a place on the Gulf down south and eat fish sandwiches and drink margaritas. That seemed to pick her up a bit. We both need a change of scenery to enliven our deadened spirits. White sand and palm trees and blue water. It sounds devine. After that, I will feel free to head further south. I want to spend a week or so in Miami just taking photographs and talking to strangers. I tell myself I will lose weight once I get back into the gym, that I will tone my body and kill with my aging charm and beauty. What do you want me to tell myself, hater? The truth? Fuck you. You can't handle the truth!
I've been living with "the truth" for awhile now, and I promise, it has not set me free.
I shall keep my tropical winter visions with me today. I shall see my mother soon and we can speak of such things. My second shot is less than two weeks away, my mother's a few days after. Life has been a dull and dreadful haul for quite awhile now. My psyche is wrecked upon the rocks, my body debilitated. But tropical fruits and nectars and fish from the sea shall bring me back from this forced encampment on the barren shoal.
That's the vision, anyway, and the hope.