The baby is in the backseat. Playing with a book called The On Purpose Life. We’re driving to Aldi. For beef broth and eggs. You can always use more eggs. The carrots are in the oven. Along with onions. And jalapeños. I hope two isn’t too many. Last time two was too many. Lentil soup for dinner. Kate is still at the coffee shop. On the way back, we’ll visit her. And get ice coffee. If the baby’s cool with it. It’s been awhile on that diaper. I skimmed the book she's drooling on. Says to live with purpose. Says your either on or off. Like a light.
The baby has five fire ant bites on her right hand. It's parental failure. I sat her in the grass, started reading this article from Huck magazine about female writers in the Beat generation. I didn't get much from the female writers but I learned a new word. Incandescence. The emission of electromagnetic radiation (including visible light) from a hot body as a result of its temperature. The term derives from the Latin verb incandescere. To glow white. How do people marshall so much thermal radiation that they glow? I want the incandescent life.
After a minute, I noticed the ant bites. I sucked breastmilk from the bottle into my mouth and then spit it on her hand. I don’t know why I put it in my mouth first. Or why I put the breastmilk on her hand at all. I remember reading somewhere that breastmilk heals everything.
The speed limit in town is 35 mph. It’s written in big white letters on the street and small red letters on the side next to the street. When they say the writing’s on the wall, the mean the future spells itself out in the present. What about when the writing isn’t on the wall? What about when the Sharpie’s in your fingers?
My grandmother finally has dementia. In a way she’s had dementia her whole life. Since I was 20, she said I wasn’t religious enough. Because I pierced my nose, I think. Then she told me my writing wasn’t religious enough. Because I said fuck, I think. Then she said it was my mom’s fault. For moving us to the midwest. I said some pretty nasty things to my Grandma after that. But only because she said nasty things to me first. Kate says I should be sympathetic to those who are just about to die.
Staying home with the baby is chill. Carrots are still in the oven. The woman with the shopping cart let me go ahead of her at Aldi. I got five organic avocados from the dumpster. And two papaya. I would have gotten more but I had the baby in my other arm. Papaya or papayas?
The dog is in the backyard chewing the bone from the deer that he found in the woods. He’s content. The sun is out, the sky is blue, and the air is cool. These are rare conditions for the state of Georgia. Maybe consciousness is a rare condition if you take the right species or galaxy or ecosystem perspective. Maybe perspective is a rare condition. I listened to a podcast yesterday about darkness and how in 1500 in London it was so dark that on a New Moon you could go on the London Bridge in the middle of the night and hold your hand out in front of your face and see nothing but black blackness. There was that little light pollution.
This morning I got a rejection letter from a community college. Which is good I guess because it’s the first rejection letter I’ve gotten from probably 100 applications. I don’t know what the rest are doing. Thinking? I had a job interview yesterday. And it went well. Scheduled the second interview. I like interviewing. I like people asking me questions. Taking notes on my responses. I like explaining my views.
There’s so many stores between our house and Aldi. Aspen Dental KFC Wendy’s Applebee’s BB&T Walgreens Exchange Bank. I’m fine how are you?