Time is Now

A bathtub that fills with hot water sits on the other side of the wall below you. Enter it, then make a choice. The water flows strong, so it appears there is not much time. Do you slip into the bathtub, submerging the numbness of another day, one marked by a commute littered with the bodies of strangers? Do vague images of dozens or hundreds of those animated ghosts become lost in the blur of doldrums, the bulk of which have yet to happen? Do you exhale with relief as the hot water, made silky with raw oil, consumes before passing a few minutes to quietly eradicate hours that have been hollowed of feeling and emotional depth (which are your birthrights)? Or, do you sink to the bottom, hand over the keys, and sooner die? from 24 April, 2020

A stretch of road that seems never-ending lay before you. It is asphalt, not dirt or land, and it is black. The road sticks straight ahead without any turns or other textures, no change in scenery to take the edge off. In fact, the edges have been lined with conveniences just for you. Some are expensive, impossible to consider. Others are so cheap their value itself falls right through your fingers. Others, still, seem affordable, offering not only your money’s worth but also quality use over time. While nothing at the moment is needed, not by you, the vague inkling that a need will arise along the way flutters inside you—because you know better—, so you set out with your reusable water bottle, some snack bars with protein, and a promise made with yourself to stop and at least consider. from 24 April, 2020