(11/12/23)

I feel like I live eternally with my foot stuck in my mouth. No good speaking to anyone, it’s just no good. My head is full of jelly. I feel it at points pinkly sliding back and forth. We were once cells, singular and complete, but somewhere along the way it fell apart, into this. Into this state where I have to take bitter little pills or my brain folds itself up and shoves itself inside a blender. The blades spin and I shred like taffy and the day loses a bit of its charm. Whatever this is, it is and is without reason. Did the fish think when it crawled onto shore? No, it just did. And it made my head full of jelly. We should thank it, often we forget how many animals stayed in the water. We are lucky in that way, but it doesn’t feel like luck. And it certainly doesn’t feel like choice.

It all reminds me of microwaves. The microwave in the dorm that Caleb kindly provides has at least one thousand buttons on it. There is a button for popcorn and potatoes and time defrost and weight defrost. Trying to reheat leftovers feels like I’m inputting the nuclear codes. Why do they have all that? Microwaves are simple machines, all they need is a dial for the time and a handle to open the door, that’s it. No keypad, no defrosts. But we complicate everything. It’s never enough for everything to be usable, it must also be “modern,” and have built in touch screens and ads and bloatware and updates that completely debilitate the thing you are trying to use. All we need is dials and handles. Our bodies are similar. Why do we need all these cells and muscles? Those single cell organisms seem to be getting on just fine without it. I yearn for osmosis, but that was stolen from me. Evolution, my ancient enemy.

~clancy