Earlier this week the whole swirl of
life seized, all in a moment, one sudden pause. No sudden clarity or
epiphany came with it, unfortunately, though my perceptions did
change. I'd been zooming through the common panic and shudder of life
in late capitalism, working my job, idolating some artistic liberty
and space, when all of a sudden I was face-to-face with facts. I am
thirty-two. I am buying my first house. I am employed, married, and
perpetually delaying my dreams. When the world stopped, I had Gramma
on the phone. Her Long Island accent for a madeline, she said, "well,
what is it that you do?"
For answer, no words just me
barfing air. How
was I to reply?
