man in spacesuit getting smaller and smaller

Surviving February

How remarkable to have made it through the month. After an initial flurry of activity the month becomes one of incredible torpor, made worse by an acute and then lingering illness. The days don’t seem to begin. When you find yourself still—on a bed, on your laptop or reading your phone, a heaviness, a cool settled feeling, takes over. You’re late wherever you go. Fortunately it isn’t so egregious that anyone seems to mind. You are able to rouse enough of yourself to carry through the days. But if you were to ask yourself what you had done—it would be both seem impossible and too insubstantial to itemize. Like listing forgotten names of the wind. You find yourself listening to the descriptions of other people’s lives with a kind of passive amazement: “How could I be living so incorrectly in comparison to them?” 

(This isn’t your entire life. You meet others, you spend time your partner, but it’s in moments like that this that you efface yourself entirely—so that you are either too much or too little your self. Deflecting or annoying. Too passive or too closed-off. After you watch a World War II movie at the theatre, you discover that your movements on the bus and on the streetcar have taken on an old-fashioned self-possession. You are easily displaced.)


Trying not to fuck up. Trying to get some rest. I am missing a gala.

Galas are cheap. 

Yesterday was my day off and I felt so weak that the idea of doing the dishes felt impossible… Later I felt better, slightly, and after doing the dishes I walked to the bike shop and got Dave to look at the bike I’d left parked outside on Sunday. Did I purchase a lemon or did I just neglect general tune-up? It’s the latter. When I brought the bike to the other shop in 2015 they told me I didn’t need regular maintenance, but of course I did. “It looks like you might have worn out the threads. Let’s hope you didn’t.”

This morning I texted someone I was excited to see, but long after we last talked. So far, nothing. I thought I needed time. In retrospect, I didn’t. Expensive mistakes.