Friday night, I ordered a burrito, ate it, and passed out by 9pm. There had been the desire to go out, to dance, get drunk, and partake in the carnival of people out in bars looking for various thrills. But, goddamn, that sleep felt so good. My body was so exhausted. I slept a good deal of this weekend. My current weekday schedule of work and school from 7am to 10pm has meant I have been getting about four hours of sleep a night. My body was so hungry for sleep, ravenous for it, and gorged on it this weekend. It was delightful.
I started The Flame Throwers, and only thirty or so pages in I am seeing why this book was so praised - so far, I am thoroughly impressed with the writerly skill of Rachel Kushner. I watched Blue Jasmine and more of Peep Show. I ate another burrito. I went to the gym, another luxury like sleep that I have been missing out on.
There is a deep freeze out on these streets. It has been sub-freezing for seemingly weeks now. My apartment is well-heated but I still like to curl up under layers of blankets and sheets - to feel the weight of something on my body, the press of something against me, the embrace of down and cotton. It’s a big world, an endless universe that I am unsure of my own role in. There are moments when that scares me and I want the embrace of someone to make me feel less unbound, less like some fleeting thing soon to dissolve in time and space, someone to hold me tight and make me feel bound, tethered. I put sheets on top of blankets on top of sheets, a substitute for something else, the heat working just fine in my apartment.