THE STREETS HERE ARE SO DARK, and the evening air feels so wet and warm, that it feels as if I am submerged in a sensory deprivation chamber that’s the size and shape of the world, one in which the errant headlights of a Doordash driver could submerge me and my dog into an even deeper and headier darkness at any moment – the ultimate sensory deprivation chamber.
EARLY IN THE MORNING, it’s not uncommon to see old women carrying lots of bags, limping after buses that have left them behind. I imagine the sad story they’ll have to tell their boss, or whoever it is wherever it is they are supposed to be, so early in the morning, with all of those bags. These fucking bags that are making all of us so late.
THE FAINTEST CAR ALARM can be heard from the husk of an ancient Mercedes on my street. At first I thought I was imagining it, but it has been weeks since I first noticed, and it is still there, the softest whirling and wooping from a ghost of luxury. A siren calling wayward sailors to its depleted shores. Where has your pride gone? An anti-theft deterrant for whom, and from what?
MY DOG IS TERRIFIED BY EVERYTHING, but when we walk at night, his fear becomes muted and more manageable. Every time he winces, I give him a piece of cheese, to replace his fear response with a response that is more appropriate to the situation of men, cardboard boxes, table saws inside mysterious garages. Nothing responses. I want to remove all of his fear, and leave nothing in its place.
A NOTE LEFT TO MYSELF, FOR REASONS I CAN’T REMEMBER:
“Be spontaneous but mentally stable”