11/01/24 - 11/02/24

11/01/24

    There was this doughnut shop in my home town—best you ever had. You needed to get there early, like 6 am. Otherwise, you’d drive up to a closed shop "Sold Out" sign on the door. It was on one of the main thoroughfares that cut through the city, in a strip mall with no other stores. The interior was very plain; small with nothing on the walls but a simple clock. It looked as if its sole purpose was to open for these few short hours, sell donuts, and close. I’d often ask my parents to wake me in the morning so that I could make the trip with them when I knew they had planned to stop by. We’d drive across town at 5 in the morning and I’d be so sleepy that I’d close my eyes and awake again, nudged by my mother when we arrived. I’d sit in the only seat in the shop and drink a small carton of milk. Sitting and watching as the person behind the counter packed up our selections into a blank white paper box. The rising sun would bathe the whole shop in a warm golden light.

    Last time I went home I heard that the owner had died and that the shop had been sold. I recalled this as I sat in an Uber heading uptown after an agonizing day of work. I've had a rough few weeks. When I’m stressed I start to lose sight of everything around me, not even knowing what day it is. When was the last time I talked to my parents? 60 unread texts. When was the last time I saw my friends? Waking up to go to work, going home to go to sleep, and doing it over again everyday.

    My thoughts become muddied, I’m outside of myself. In turn, my dissociation becomes my reality. I’m in that doughnut shop, warmed by the morning light coming through the window and a sweet scent wafting around me. The feeling of a gentle shake from my loved ones to wake me. I’m walking in the night through streets lively with people. Fallen leaves swirl on the ground and the lights that fill the city appear to float and blur as if tears have welled up in my eyes. I am alone, hands in the pockets of my imaginary jacket, shoulders raised to my ears, and I’m pushing through a strong imaginary gust of wind.

11/02/24

7:50 pm
    I’ve been walking aimlessly through the Upper East Side after leaving the Met. Down through the 70s then the 60s until I reached midtown. It’s cold. In movies, when the main character is walking in solitude through the city they are usually surrounded by crowds of people, all vibrantly living—a bustling backdrop to their isolation. But in my reality, there is no one. The streets are quiet, the shops are closed, and it’s dark, and I am alone.

I got on the Q train and made my way to Union Square. I bought a ticket to see a movie on a whim: the anime adaption of Fujimoto’s Look Back. The theater had about five other people in it, all spread out. I sat in the middle row off to the left. I had forgotten the main plot of the manga. During the climax tears streamed down my face without stopping. When the credits rolled, I wiped my face with my sweater sleeve, got up, and left.

Playlist

Don’t Look Back In Anger - Oasis

The Light That Has Lighted the World - George Harrison

Suite from “The Gadfly” - Dmitri Shostakovich

TORNADO - Minako Yoshida

404 File Not Found - TAEYONG


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