Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Ok urah.2 weeks off
No keyboard.
Tryna write on speaker and swype sux
Like this...


spent all morning reading poems from rattle. My bathtub needs cleaning, the laundry unwashed. I am not yet on isolation but I want to be. In the time of pandemic I wish to be well and do chores that I have not energy for when I work
At the factory, they are diligent with time. Orders must be made and filled and not be late. I do not feel a part of this team because I am repair. I fix the broken or missing or flamed out. There is no time limit on Resurrection. Still I try to have them done same day.
I want to take off for two weeks quarantine but the boss insists we work. We are not essential workers. Only to the bottom line. Should one or all of us die, fungibility will provide.
I want to do all this work but I am tired. I am tired and have a symptom that may or may not be related to the pandemic. My honey had it 5 days ago this symptom and now I have it. But he is not sick with the pandemic and is currently at his work, also non-essential. I want to pressure wash my house. I want to fold laundry. And though the thermometer will let me, my bowels do not agree.
I can still smell. I can still taste. But I have no appetite for anything but sleep, which eludes me. I don't know if it's nerves or habit that makes this impossible. Or the absence of television or the absence of information or the absence of my lover, out in the world today encountering the buds of absence waiting for spring to bloom


1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

i can't imagine spending a morning with rattle, a pretentious we-all kinda mag, but your "saltine" might lift it up a few notches, if you would bite the bullet and send it, i keep clicking on yr blog but you really oughta swear off this ode of silence, whatever its purpose. j

8:06 PM  

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