…I just mistook a bunch of football players in a huddle for a luna moth unfolding its wings.
I need new specs, desperately. Also, here’s a list of things that have frightened me today:
1. People laughing on TV. My ears went all alien, and the sound made no sense…I heard laughter and saw spinning blades.
2. A piece of roast beef. I thought it was a roach. I found a roach once, in Texas, as big as my hand. I thought it was that roach, and I was like didn’t I squash you and paint you and glue you to a cross, and didn’t I post you to Canada with my art school portfolio?—but it was only roast beef.
3. The sun. It peeked out from behind a cloud.
4. Adolf Hitler. I saw his picture. I didn’t like that. If I made a list of my phobias, Hitler would be on the second page, above hairy vegetables but below living Nazis.
5. This guy in the lobby. He was wearing a big coat, y’know, one of those Michelin ones. He had long legs, long thin ones, and I thought…I don’t know what I thought. Just, his shape was all wrong. He didn’t register as human, but then he moved…. It was like a lamp came to life, or a hat stand, just wrong.
6. A contract. I was scrolling down, looking for the dotted line, and there were too many pages. I got this moment of existential dread, like what if this never ends? What if this contract goes forever, and this is my life now, and I’m trapped on this page?
7. A piece of celery. I choked on it.
Come to think of it, with the exception of the laughter and the celery, all of the above might be remedied by new specs. The world’s a horrorshow when it won’t quite resolve. Things change into other things. They shift before your eyes.. Hitler jumps from a meme. The sun is too bright. It feels like you’re dying, but it’s just you can’t see.
The one benefit of poor vision is the city at night. There’s a thin band of buildings along the skirts of the mountains, and they gleam in the dark, all blurry green fire. I watch from my window, and I dream of a necklace like that. Nothing’s that shiny, not diamonds, not gold…you can’t get that sparkle at Birks.
You know what I want? One of those Roman numeral bracelets from Tiffany’s, the ones that go III, VI, IX, XII all the way round. Normally, I hate Tiffany’s—their stuff’s just so tacky, and everyone has it—but that bracelet, I want. It’d be like wearing a watch, only it doesn’t tell time….
Finally, I should note that whenever I take a day off, I go the whole time feeling like I’m forgetting something important.