I’ve been spending more time outside. Going fifteen miles per hour on the bike lane. Down the street, a new apartment is being built. I feel as if I’m finally reacclimating. I’m talking to people face to face. Shedding my dependence on the indoors and the internet. Summer feels full of promise. It was 94 degrees last Friday.
I’m wary about California fires. Saw smoke plumage into the ocean on the way to San Francisco. Everything I do or say seems extremely awkward. I ordered a pizza with anchovies on it, and I don’t know why I didn’t think it wasn’t going to taste like fish. I don’t understand social interactions anymore. It’s tiring but it’s also exciting. I remember that I like talking to people. I’m forgetting to water the sage out on the porch. She crumples and complains and then I remember.
I feel at once more energized by my work and less demanding of it. I asked a stranger for her email. She said, I love you guys. I said, I love you too! Then us guys got out of her car and ran to the train station. I don’t hold myself to strict schedules. Everything is loose and a little bit out of control. My friend thought I quit writing and I wasn’t offended.
I open my rows of untitled documents. Click on each document and surprise myself with something I wrote a month ago. I text a friend. It’s been a long time since we’ve talked. I deactivated my social media and people think I’m turning weird. I’m just trying to tap out of the societal obsession over how quickly famous people get things done. Goodbye hyper connected, hyper exterior universe! I’m trying to find it less offending when someone calls me disorganized.
I keep reminding myself that I started this blog to experiment. Write literally two pages, double spaced about anything. Keep it easy. Keep it short. I want to write fast casual, but the words come out melodrama. I’m doing well, I swear. I’m doing well.
There are so many questions in a conversation. What did you do this weekend? I hear the silence as I formulate a sentence. It comes out jarbled. I just want to laugh and laugh. At myself and at us. I saw a jazz concert for the first time. When the saxophone arched towards the sky, I closed my eyes.