Everybody has secrets. I am an amputee. You can’t see where my limbs have been removed but I feel their absence continuously. Gone is the long, whipping tail that used to entertain and thrill spiders and snakes. Gone from my back are the multiple feet and legs that used to make landlubbing a joy. Yes, I am an amputee, but it’s a secret. The 8 eyeballs that used to line the back of my head are not fully gone. They were relocated, not removed. Certain of those eyes are sometimes seen peering out from one of the jackhammers severed from my loin region. I keep the watchful jackhammer in a closet, plugged in to a water and nutrients supply to keep the eyes alive and watching, though they have no ability to record or report what they see. Other amputations would have never been visible. The removal of emotional deserts, the cloning of serenities, the vacuuming out of all constructs informing social decency and social mores. These essential foundations of a memorable life are gone. Yes, I am an amputee.
I am at my usual workday morning routine. Strawberries and water. Sometimes the strawberries make me rush to poop if I eat the leaves.
I took an R train today, not the usual N, to 59th Street/Lexington. No N trains were running from Astoria. Shuttle buses were provided but the quantity of stairs one must climb at Queensboro Plaza has become a barrier for me. So R it was. I felt a little off, a little dizzy perhaps. I woke early, about 5am. Lately it feels like only I wake up. Only I sleep and later rise to face the day. Everyone else stays awake, writing, laughing, partying and fornicating while I, the last human alive who still must sleep, miss out. By daybreak artificial intelligence has changed the face of war, changed the face of people I see every day, changed the fundamental expectations we have as a species.
Someone has sent me a photo of a payphone, one which appears to work. Somewhere in Massachusetts. This leads to general chitchat, stations in life, sad memories of departed friends. And laughs. Always laughs. Talking about how she’s an Uber driver and maybe I should be, too. I always thought it sounded like fun, and reasonably safe compared to yellow cabs, though that could be naive thinking.
This is my seccret today. This conversation with an old bar buddy.
