And Iʼm not sure if Iʼm not finishing it because I donʼt feel like reading it or because I donʼt feel like reading at all or because I do feel like reading, and badly, and Iʼm afraid of what will happen when I finish it
Donʼt donʼt donʼt read it right now
The world is falling apart
But is it?
I’m trying to imagine a future in which our capacity for happiness is less than it currently is
Are we standing in a bread line?
Am I dead of infection from a coat-hangering?
Is everyone we know and don’t drowned in the rising sea?
It’s easy for me—with my sunburn and sack of discount bruised apricots and only a vague uneasiness at how the friendly fisherman affirm, to each other, “Juif” after I introduce myself—to be like, Everything is fiiiiine
But, like, everything is not fine
It always will be, in various ways, and as things change, we will make changes, and we will go on
I don’t know what else to say
I’m not saying don’t care
But, like, run for office
OR find a way to keep enjoying the new and increasingly horrific world orders
As much as you’re capable of enjoying anything
I am the engineer of a small-scale sea snail Holocaust
My knapsack is soaked in their seawater, which leaked from the olive box while, presumably, I biked home, but my journal is dry
Yesterday Sylka told me that her mother — 90 or 95 years old, I guess — had a dream about telling me, Rachel, remember me
Everything about yesterday was exhausting. I left Pilou before the meal of snails because it became too much work to chat with him in French. I got into the house okay and ate the rest of my cheese and seven apricots and three carrots and half a loaf of bread soaked in coconut oil because it was what I had.
Today I’m a little overrun with my physical self — yesterday I got barnacles embedded in my foot and I have a good surgical needle, carried with me, but man this is a job, and on account of the IUD I had placed in New York I find I bleed from my reproductive organs in a newly voluminous way — like, a leaving bloody handprints on Sylkaʼs bathroom walls way. What a burden is a body.
I am redrawing ma pancarte now, and after this I will go buy barres énergetiques, and then I will go to the beach.
A seagull near me is having a hard time eating a whole ice cream cone.
Today is USAmerican Independence Day, and I will do nothing, in deliberate protest. Will anyone even notice? I’m no longer convinced people in the world care about or have even heard of the United States. Justice Kennedy is retiring and President Trump has the opportunity to appoint yet another Supreme Court justice, and I don’t know anyone here to talk about it with, anyone who wouldn’t stare at my mouth as the sounds came out, both of us considering a question of reality and/or having gotten it wrong. I want to put quotation marks around all of these proper nouns, which are something people made up and getting a little fuzzy around the edges in my mind.