So it's a shitty time to have a chest infection. I went and got tested for the Covid yesterday. I'm waiting for my phone to buzz with the verdict. Whatever's going on, my chest feels like shit, I'm not allowed to leave the house, and the news just seems to be all bad. There's silver linings in the cleaner air and the potential for a less wasteful society, but that's bigger picture stuff. Right now I'm in a room and my picture seems claustrophobically small. I would like to swap bodies with somebody who doesn't have asthma, who didn't drink too much and smoke too much and potentially ruin their ability to survive this shit. I would like to have a mind that doesn't fill me with constant dread no matter what's going on, and to be able to truly enjoy the good moments, without the awareness of that impending edge from which everything blows off into a horror shitstorm...
I'm playing the piano a lot, tryna distill these thoughts & feelings into some kind of musical poignancy.
The world could be ending, and all I give a shit about is not wanting to feel the fear anymore. The anxiety that grips every muscle, every artery constricting and the airways shutting up shop. It sucks. It's hard not to think about it when there's nothing to do. Usually I go on runs. Or get drunk. Or have sex. None of which would be a very good idea right now. And also, illegal (except for the drunk bit), until I get a negative result from the Covid people. The mysterious Covid people.
All that can be done in the meantime is play piano, watch Better Call Saul, and keep on trucking.
As my mum always says, "It is what it is," though I really wish I'd stop philosophising about everything and just exist. Like a sparrow or a kangaroo. It is what it is. Or it isn't. Maybe it's a dream of something else. Maybe it isn't anything at all. Urgh. Shut the fuck up, mind.