The Lost Pedestrian

If I had a way to count the number of barbecues I have missed this summer, I am not sure if I would use it.

They would be innumerable. Insurmountable.

And I am not sure why I would even attempt it.

We’re it not for the pandemic.

I just want to nap all of the time. Except for when I need to sleep. When I have nothing left but weariness, my body or maybe my spirit seem to rebel against it.

So I try to count the barbecues I may have missed. It’s a fruitless endeavor. Which is fine because I probably eat too much fruit.

But I’m sure that’s not why I put on 20 pounds the other day.

Though it could have been a factor.

It’s strange. To suddenly love summer, the season I hate the most. But now I love it and I am sad that it is about to go out. When it leaves, where will that leave me?

It’s too much for one person to contemplate.

I’m exhausted. Exhausted by all of the nothing that is happening. So much nothing. It’s endless. This nothingness.

I am at a loss for words to describe all of this negative space I occupy. The only thing that feels different are the clouds hovering above this space I occupy. Right now they are gray and blue and white and orange and quite thick and rich and deep. Thank you, clouds.

Somebody just told me in an email how lucky I am to spend the summer in Rhode Island. Why have I never experienced this as anything but exile… as a place that is not L.A. or NYC or Minneapolis or Chicago or Seattle or San Francisco?

And now I’m about to leave.

I feel foolish that I haven’t experienced it.

I can blame it on my work schedule and how lazy I was when I was not at my job or commuting for 3 hours 5 days/week. And being a vegetable on weekend.

And then when it came time to not blame my job, it was only because I lost it at the onset of the pandemic. Which is when I grew afraid to leave my apartment, even to walk down the hallway to take out the trash.

And then I could blame it on rehab from hip replacement surgery and a fractured foot which is all legitimate.

But it feels like a personal failure that I not risen above any of that.

In the meantime, time has not paid any attention to my nothingness.

I’ve been coasting all day. Avoiding anything remotely uncomfortable or decisive. But I guess avoidance leads to numbness which leads discomfort about numbness and uncertainty about how it will end, except in a sentence such as this one.

I have a real talent for avoiding the sun, as you probably know by now. And avoiding thinking about where i will live in 3 weeks. Whether I am coming or going to who knows where? Somebody knows. But not me. .

Maybe I will live under a different sun that I won’t work so hard to avoid all of the time. Maybe that sun would prefer to avoid me. I think I am ok with that, I tell myself.

So now I’m watching the sunset. Actually watching the parking garage that blocks the sunset. But I can sense the dimming glow.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I have a craving for a dirty vodka martini. But I haven’t done much to earn it.

I don’t understand why dusk goes by so quickly these days. I am dusk-deprived.

What else don’t I understand? Why am I always 32 years late for everything?

It doesn’t seem fair.

It’s not fair that i am the oldest one in this room. Always. No matter what room I am in.

I don’t quite get why I sigh so frequently. Even when a sigh is inappropriate, it doesn’t stop me.

I don’t understand how I can think and type all of these words. And none of them mean anything. There’s no substance. They’re insubstantial. I don’t quite know when they became that way.

I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do next. 32 years late and possibly not another 32 years remaining. What do you do in a situation like that?

I guess you can watch basketball or read different sentences in different books and not remember any of them.

I guess you can order take-out with the hope that it is Covid-free.

I guess you can pretend that the world is Covid-free.

But what’s the use of pretending it’s not there when all you can think about is that it isn’t there?

I guess I’d rather not know the answer to that question.

I am trying my best to distract myself from the fear that the world is closing in on me.

But then when I turn away from that fear to look at the world outside of me, another fear emerges that the world is closing in on itself.

Most of this is at least partially caused by Trump.

I’m exhausted thinking about him. Exhausted from the dread he instills.

Usually by 3:00 in the afternoon, I am completely exhausted. And I attempt a nap, but then notice that my heart beats faster and my thoughts wander back to Trump.

And then I focus on my breast and try to stay focused to count to 100 inhalations and exhalations. But I usually lose count after 3. So I start over again and I might make it to 7. But that’s about it.

And then there’s my age which is closer to 100 than to 7. And my fear that he will outlive me. That he will be the last president of my lifetime.

And then I start to think about his destruction of the environment. And then the perverse thought…. why does the doom of the Earth bother me so much when I won’t be around because Trump will have already killed me?

Which leads to pity for the next generation, a pity which is completely unhelpful for anybody.

In my dream early this morning, I had an appointment with my hepatologist to discuss the results of my MRI. She said that they found something wrong with my pituitary gland and that things would begin to deteriorate in the not far off future. And then there would be a second wave of further deterioration. And then I woke up just in time for my actual zoom appointment with this very same hepatologist Only in the non-dream, she told me that my liver had not deteriorated since last year’s MRI and that some of my liver function tests had actually improvised.

I would have to say I am a fortunate one.

I would have to say I think I am still alive. Unless I am only dreaming that I am still alive. But do you still dream when you’re dead? And how would a dead person know if they are dreaming? Is there any difference between a death state and a dream state? This definitely demands more research.

A friend who has always struggled to find work came up with a brilliant idea to support herself, or semi-support herself. She is going to be a professional listener. I was not aware there was such a thing, but apparently there’s an entire industry of listeners. She asked if I could be reference for her and I said, of course, because I cannot imagine a better listener than she.

That seems like a much safer option than being a professional cuddler. Although I could surely use one as soon as I finish this sentence.

I can’t believe the heat that I am sitting in. All of these people wandering in the heat with their beer cans and bottles, without masks. How foreign they seem to me.

It makes me want to grab a beer and take off my mask.

I’ve spent much of the day trying to conjure up a will of some sort. A will for anything. But there is nothing there. I don’t see anything there.

I must break out of this nothing state, but I’ve lost my way. And I’m too embarrassed to ask anyone for directions. It’s kind of a problem, I think.

Everything seems headed far too quickly, like a tidal wave, in one direction. And I can’t seem to stop it.

Falling asleep has gotten more difficult lately. I’m not quite sure why. My body gets more restless as the hours pass by. Like there is some sort of vibrating coil deep within. Drugs can sometimes tame it. Sex would be a huge help. I don’t think rock music would help although probably rocking like I used to do until I was 7 would be soothing.

And then the day is spent lethargically, trying to hold from a nap as long as possible. One of the few percs of unemployment. That is probably keeping me awake, as well. When will this pandemic end? What will become of me when it does end?

I guess the goal is to remain afloat and alive.

Today was a continuation of nothing. Or it’s all one nothing that we break up into fragments of time that are much more graspable to our comprehension. By ‘we,’ I am referring to me.

I graduated from crutches to cane. So that something that wasn’t exactly nothing.

And I sent out dozens of texts.

I didn’t even have a receiver.

I just send out these texts into the air, into the void. I don’t expect anyone to read them.

I defrosted a frozen lasagna.

I ate an orange.

And a banana.

I watched the orange sky at dusk darken into blue.

I lifted my knee up and down 30 times (one of my physical therapy exercises).

I moved from one chair to another.

And back again.

I opened the windows.

I stared at the piano, but did not play it.

I’m not quite sure what the point is to playing a piano for someone who doesn’t really know how to play, during a pandemic.

I close the windows when insects fly in and land in my ears.

I close my eyes and when I open them, the sky is even darker. No lights in the distance,.

I hear a murmur but my tinnitus is drowning it out.

I stare at the empty bed that no one had made.

I long for the night when the bed is not empty.

When was the last time you felt something?

I feel fear and guilt just about all of the time.

OK, when was the last time you felt something other than fear and guilt?

Hmmmmmm

Would you like more time to answer?

I’m not sure if that would help much.

OK. Why don’t we sit with this feeling for a few minutes?

You mean sit with this non-feeling?

Yes, let’s sit with this and maybe a feeling will emerge.

So far nothing is happening.

Just be patient. We’re not in any rush.

I feel tired.

That’s a start.

Now I’m suddenly sneezy. Does that count as a feeling?

That’s more of a sensation than a feeling. But it’s good that you notice.

I feel this thud of emptiness.

This is good.

Really?

Yes.

Do we have to keep going?

Yes.

Now my tiredness has become a wave of fatigue. Is this a good thing?

Yes, it means something is percolating.

Would you mind if I took a nap?

If that’s what you need …

I really do.

We can try this again after your nap.

OK. But I think we’re going to have the same result.

Possibly. But you never know.

OK.

I don’t know how it happened this way. Why it happened this way. But I managed to live a life without really living it. And now it’s almost over.

Maybe it’s just my pandemic mindset. But I have lived so uncourageously. So many uncourageous homogenized days. One after the year. And the years have piled up. And I have barely scratched the surface of doing anything meaningful.

Last night, I dreamt I was locked up in a minimum security prison for a petty crime of which I cannot recall. It may have been accidental theft (perhaps walking out of Whole Foods forgetting to pay for something). The prison was really was not that bad. The guys (yes, all male) were pretty easygoing. Everything including our clothes was gray. There wasn’t a lot of tension. Except with the warden. I was hoping to get early release for good behavior. And I really was behaving quite good. But the warden would not have it.

My biggest worry while serving my sentence was how little time I would have once I was released. And that I had missed my window of opportunity. In life.

One of those very literal dreams.