I arrived in New York without a bed, nor a roof over my head to get through the winter night. This was a situation that could be easily remedied, but I chose not to until the very last minute. I was using the “Hotel Tonight” to monitor the falling prices. As the day progressed, the lower the prices dropped.
It turns out that the biggest bargain was the very one I could not stomach. A room in the Trump Soho hotel dropped from $450/night to $73/night. This was at 4:00 pm. Perhaps if I had waited, the hotel might have paid me to stay there. But I did not want to run the risk of contamination. I would have needed a major delousing after a one-night stay, maybe even during it. To be in the periphery of such odiousness.
I think that the scariest part of living under the Trump/Republican regime is not know when or if it will ever end.
So I ended up staying at a trendy hotel in Brooklyn and I could easily have stayed there forever if I had not run out of $$ and gotten sick. So now, back in Providence, home sick. Trying to conjure a spark within. And not think about Trump.
On the train ride out of New York, I was hit with a massive wave of despair but I am trying to shake myself out of–knowing I was returning to utter aloneness. Were humans equipped to feel such loneliness? I am not. Loneliness is like the Trump regime in certain ways. A dark cloud that will hopefully pass. Because it has to.
Maybe Bach Fest on the radio will uplift me. Maybe D’s new book, which is unexpectedly intense. Intensely funny. Intensely sad, on top of the sadness I feel when I think of how far we drifted apart and how I let that happen. Intensely regretful.
Isn’t this post pathetic? This will be the last one of its kind. I swear.