Dear Reader,
The appetizer today
is a series of necessary 'I' statements.
Our attention will turn
back to you while we poke around
our plates
(i promise
it always will)
I had a flip phone until 2021.
I have a iPhone 7 in 2024.
I didn't have the internet in my home until 2018-
when my now husband and I moved in together.
I have always been a step out of line-
i.e., astrided
and how does that make you feel?
well. it's not really about how i feel at all- in a 'pain is an illusion' kind of way. the more obvious factor demanding attention, is how far away the world feels sometimes. i from it, and it from me. it's like i'm in a totally different geographic, no, topographic space and it's not frightening because it's within ya know? so it's not emotional, just... gently alarming? like a lil 'huh'
but other times the world seems so close. like when the world was quarantined during Covid, and i started baking bread and doing yoga as pleasant ways to spend time and later realized the whole world did too.
or when one ancient, serendipitous moment rolls into the next
creating a kind of pulpable nectar
nectar?
yeah- whatever flows inside during an out of body experience.
i weave with nectar.
in 2014, my sister in law graciously put Spotify on one of her old phones, and handed it to me with a shrug.
my brother looked at me with an elder's snide smile and said 'welcome to 2008, Rachel'.
during a snippet on NPR in passing, someone was speaking on older people in the US's workforce, and the prejudices within. The speaker essentially said that if one wasn't up to a certain speed by a certain time, then they would never be able to get up to speed because of the accelerated rate we're experiencing developments.
i broke down
on the spot
and when
i
looked back up
i was an atrium away
and
this hallway
of glass
that has been walked through
returned in
to offer
a weaving distance
between
i/we
as rebar in ancient sands
observing to crack,
