No smoking yesterday. Or the day before. Had some close calls. Now I am just intensely aggressive and irritated by everything. The good news is that I did my laundry. Then I made my bed. Then I cleaned my kitchen at home. Then I came to the studio and swept the floor. Then I tidied up. Then I washed the floor. Then I cleaned the kitchen in my studio. Then I did my filing. Then I 3-hole punched all of the papers I've gotten for my two classes this semester and put them into 3-ring binders. Then I rode my bike home and got into bed, where, unable to sleep, I skimmed through an advance copy of New York Times writer Benoit Denizet-Lewis' book American Voyeur. It is surprisingly bad. The good news is that he looks really butch so nobody thinks he's a homo (apparently).
Happy to be away from Madeleine; she does not deserve to be directly subjected to the powerhosing my life tends to get whenever I quit. Also, the lack of affect. We'll get to that eventually. I did force her to walk from Brooklyn to Grand Central Station, though. She probably needed the exercise anyway. I haven't had the heart to read her post yet. Perhaps it is filled with recrimination? We can only hope...
My best to everyone.
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Agnes: You remind me of Madame Psychosis in Infinite Jest who cleans obsessively after quitting pot. I wish you could clean my place which is a disaster which makes it hard for me to write, which I can't do anyway because my kid is home sick from school which means I am home from work which means misery. Sort of.
ReplyDeleteAlso, Agnes: I was very moved by your other recent post, especially this: "But worse is the feeling that I am somehow too close to the world. Smoking is a very effective barrier—sometimes literally—between the self and the outside. Whenever I remove it I feel raw and a bit emotionally enflamed. Which is disgusting."
I ALWAYS feel too close to the world, which I agree is the worst. It was much worse in my 20s but it's still a problem. Maybe when I'm 40 it will be better, but I doubt it. Your Reader calls it being V which is what I still call it. I am still quite problematically V. And I suspect it will always be that way.
i only called it v when i was little. now i am aphasic. love, delicia sonnenberg!
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