Post date: Jul 06, 2020 2:37:13 AM
[originally drafted: 2020-07-01, eventide]
i find myself at moments where i'm in the middle of a sentence, then trying to think of the right word .. only to have someone else finish my sentence. well yes, that's right, but .. and mentally i'm still trying to finish my sentence.
meanwhile they expect me to say something else, and since i don't have anything else .. well, eventually a suggestion appears. usually the next meal. or coffee. or beer.
...
when i see someone on the street that i know, then anxiety sets in. how far is 6ft again? i just asked them how they're doing and interjected "in light of circumstances" again.
fvck:
i forgot what they just answered, just now,
because i was fiddling with my mask again.
maybe i should just buy one of the homemade comfy kind on etsy or something.
ok: should we refer to weather now?
will we ever talk about anything deep again, for fear of exposure?
why is it so hard to talk, nowadays?
if not a reluctant video chat, then should i not bother them?
i should have been a pair of ragged claws,
scuttling across the floors of silent seas [1].
i don't worry all the time;
i just worry when i'm among people.
staying-at-home changes you;
once-typical interactions become risk factors.
given too much time to reflect, in isolation, crazy ideas start breeding and even if you know they are crazy, it takes brain processing power to move them aside and quiet down the voices in your head that would give them power.
there should be a diet of the mind, as well as a diet of the body. yes, eat your vegetables, understand that systemic disenfranchisement is a thing, such as racism and sexism and fvck-all-that-noise.
i haven't pondered Nanissáanah in a while. maybe someone should organise one on 1600 black lives matter plaza. supposedly it makes waves ...
"Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) agents grew disturbed when they became aware that so many Indians were coming together and participating in a new and unknown event.
In early October 1890, Kicking Bear, a Minneconjou Sioux Indian, visited Sitting Bull at Standing Rock telling him of his visit to Wovoka. They told him of the great number of other Indians who were there as well [...]
The new soil would be covered with sweetgrass, running water and trees and the great herds of buffalo and wild horses would return. All Indians who danced the Ghost Dance would be taken up into the air and suspended there while the new earth was being laid down.
Then they would be returned to the earth along with the ghosts of their ancestors."
...
[1] T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"