I give up.
I quit.
I’m done.

If I had money, I’d go travel and take yoga classes and long walks. But since I don’t, I’ll just work from 9 to 5 and then goof off the rest of the time.

I’m done. I quit. I give up.

There’s nothing I want to do except leave all the time. I feel vaguely guilty.

I should start a gratitude journal.

I’m gratitude for being healthy.

I’m gratitude for the lonely bored ache shoving the top of my back–in that dip beneath my shoulders–so that I fly forward and down, hands sprawling desperately forward to catch my scraping fall onto the asphalt driveway. It teaches me that people hurt and we’re all God.

Do you ever want to be an energy being? I do quite often. Like the guy from that episode of Star Trek. He could take on any shape and drift from world to world, exploring in the possibilities. Once while on earth being a human, he fell in love with an earth woman. The story ends sad, but I still think it would be nice to be able to zip around as a beam of light and then take on any shape and any mind and explore and create and be invincible and more powerful than all the weapons on the world. It appeals to me. If I had it, I would put on a slightly younger me and go to some cities I miss and a few others that I feel nostalgic about even though I’ve never actually been; I’ll go to these cities and sit about in cafes and bars and imperviously smoke cigarette after cigarette, speaking whatever language the locals speak. Maybe I’ll pick up women too–who knows?

You’d think I’d take on the shape of a sperm whale, but suited up with an IQ 300 brain and dive to the bottom of the sea while contemplating general relativity. You’d think I’d make use of my powers like that. Oh and maybe I’d end up doing stuff like that. But for now, I’d just be me with a younger body and invincible lungs. I guess I could be super intelligent in the cafes and bars as I dissipated.

Of course, people and their institutions would change and eventually cease to be. So that would add a lonely wrinkle to the enterprise. I mean I always feel a little lonely anyway, but I think it would be worse once I’d outlived the people and world I grew up in. Not that I’m done growing up. Anyway, maybe once everything that had flowed in and out of the young warbling me was dried up and blown asunder, I’d take on a child’s form and grow up again.

Ah! But then you see how it must be! Reincarnation and all that. Must be true. And ultimately it is God that is each of us. So God experiences every possible permutation. I don’t know why. Does God know why?

Anyway, I always feel like taking off. I don’t know where I’d go. I wanted to be a writer. Why was that anyway?

So I quit.


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