The air here is tight and mind is moving. A man walks by in the street, smoking a cigarette and here I am under the cruel magnification of the window pane as the sun blasts in her meridian. The cafe is a bestiary filled with all manner of species. Below, on the walk here, I passed one of two known bus stops in town. It, the bus stop, is a scene of constant evolution and its current iteration is one of higher than usual entropy. There is a broken Sobe bottle, a bed sheet, and three cigars stubbed in rude lingams in the center of each seat. A story happened here.
A student killed themselves this past week. There are any number of reasons why one may take this course. I had to inform a friend of theirs via phone and the other student was literally speechless. I informed the student that they would likely receive many calls, cloyingly so, inquiring about their well being with the undercurrent of fear that this still living student might be pushed to flip the same switch as the deceased not necessarily out of an overburdening sense of another's life but that too many student suicides would cause inquiry and, as we know, inquiry into government contracts is never a good thing for corporate. I allowed the student could opt out of answering our number but that if the student wished to speak to me my office number rings out to my cell so anytime I was available. The student thanked me and I left them their space and own tumbling through the void. Hopefully, the message arrived intact.
There are ladies the next table over praying nonsensically over their food. Three women, different generations, all white giving thanks for their late lunch. Absurdity planes away in every direction. This morning on a pornography streaming site I saw, in the comments, the two top rated comments on a ridiculously gonzo scenario'd video were from what were likely two men. One poster, DannyDevito4206969, lamented life's pointlessness in the face of crushing loneliness and repetition and that the video was not even arousing due to the cyclical nature of suffering alone in the world. Other posters replied, encouraging this anonymous soul to maintain, maintain. Later on in the comment stream, Lay's Potato Chips delivered a text ad imploring the online fappers to satisfy their snack hankerings with their brand. I suppose meaning is where you find it.
The world is doomed, as it perpetually has been, but sometimes you get good news. A friend visits. You find a penny heads up on the biking trail. You fall in love farther than you had been. An eagle alit in a tree regards you. A billion little miracles flood your life at any moment leaving you in profound befuddlement. You slow dance with a cat to Lana Del Rey then weep for a young person now gone. Anything will happen.
The air here is tight and mind is moving.
