04/05/25

    I've been thinking about a nap I had yesterday. I hadn’t taken a nap in awhile, even during my time off. I had gone to work very early in the morning so I left early in the afternoon. I had been so exhausted that rather than going to the gym with my spare time I went home. I laid in bed and continued reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Road which I had picked up the week prior and began devouring over the weekend. I felt the sudden heaviness of my eyelids and blurring of my vision. It was the kind of abrupt sleep that feels like your body is turning off despite itself. I wanted to keep reading as I was almost finished but my head started feeling fuzzy. I relinquished myself to it. Setting the book with the open pages facing down to be picked up again when I awoke and crumpling my body into a ball in the middle of the bed. Falling deeply asleep the moment I let my eyes shut.

    I had dreamt multiple times over. A dream within a dream within a dream. Layers upon layers. All so vivid but from what I could remember all unrelated. Recently when I dream they feel so real. I recall the last dream, the last layer. I had seen an old friend. I’ve forgotten her name but I remember her face. We were sitting together in the kitchen when I asked about her mother. She started to cry and I started to cry. She served me fresh baked bread and water and we didn’t speak any further. Then I woke up. 

    A comforting sleep. My bedroom was a perfect temperature, the sun pouring in the window hadn’t disrupted my slumber at all. I slept for three hours.

    We had been out. Chef, M, N and I. Hopping from place to place in the West Village. All the while, I was watching my drink intake. Sticking with vodka sodas and white wine. I counted two each by the time we reached Asoko. I’ve been counting a lot lately: the number of steps I take, how many calories are in a single chicken thigh, the number of strawberries I put in my yogurt. What’s a third of a cup in ounces?

    In the clamoring of the compact room, in the back on the tatami mats, M and I sat side by side and had a moment that I felt I hadn’t experienced in some time. After inputting my drink count into an app I downloaded about two weeks ago, M and I went back and forth discussing the motive behind my doing this. It appears to be nothing more than the excessive outcome of an eating disorder. I told her that despite what others might think about my looks, the way I see myself isn’t the way I want to see myself. I know what I can look like so I’ve been chasing after this ideal for years. I lost what I had and I want it back, the counting and accounting is nothing more than taking the necessary measures. I’m eating the same as I would, just less. I mean, I’m drinking alcohol for Christ’s sake! I like who I am on the inside can’t I work on my outside as well?

    All she could do was tell me how much she cared for me. She had started to cry. I felt for her. In that moment I was comforted in a very real way. I was mesmerized. Had it just been the alcohol? The lo-fi booming of the speakers returned to my ears. I remembered that it had not just been her and I in that room.

    Now I’m in a car, listening to Mahler’s 8th Symphony over the radio. This is one of my favorites. The choral parts are beautiful. It must be close to the ending as it is very quiet—but it’s building. Crescendo.

    It’s these moments when you’re alone, after a drink or two, when you’re in your own head, that you can really lay out in front of you all that you’ve been neglecting. Have you texted your mom back? Have you called her? Have you thought about the state of the world? What will happen to your loved ones? Do you tell them you love them? Do you remember your pets that have come and gone? Do you really know anyone?

    When I left the apartment earlier, I saw a rat lying on the pavement. I stopped and observed it as other people walked by. Its breathing was shallow but I could see it was still alive. What happened to it? Why was it here? I felt bad for it. Had the rat been as cute as a mouse it would probably be liked more.

    I got out of the car and walked up to my building and the rat was no longer there.

Playlist

I Live for You - George Harrison

Perfect Day - Lou Reed

Tomorrow is a Long Time - Bob Dylan

Promise (Reprise) - Akira Yamaoka

Symphony No. 8 - Part Two: Final Scene from Goethe’s “Faust Part II”: XVII. Sehr langsam. Mater Gloriosa: Komm! Hebe dich zu hohern Sparen! - Gustav Mahler

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