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summer 2025
Chapter 2
Thursday, June 26th
It turns out that my problems on Monday were worse than I thought. I’ve spent the last few days sick in bed. T has been telling people that I have “one of those summer colds.” I know this because I can hear them saying it when they talk to their friends on the phone. I want to defend myself, but I am usually too busy sneezing.
“One of those summer colds” makes it sound romantic. It could be the name of an Eric Rohmer movie where some middle aged dud and his daughter’s best friend talk about the difference between virtue and morality while sitting in wicker chairs. But this week has not been a French new wave film. It has been more like one of those French horror movies that you think is going to be scary, but it is actually just so sad that you still feel like shit the next day.
And if I can get technical for a moment, I had a fever of 101 on Tuesday. That’s not cold at all.
In terms of my larger project to run three miles, this is definitely a setback. I’m more than a little nervous that by the time I feel well enough to exercise again, I will be more or less back to where I started two weeks ago. There was a part of me earlier in the week that hoped that I could do a light workout while sick, but then I walked two blocks to the library and got so tired I had to lay down for an hour.
Lesson learned.
***
Tuesday, July 1st
Last Thursday, half an hour after I finished my last update, I got a call from T absolutely balling their eyes out. They fell down the stairs at a friend's place, spraining their ankle and bruising their tailbone. Friday morning, T woke up sick with the same virus I have. This means that for the last few days, T has not been able to stand (busted ankle), sit (broken butt), or lay down (their swollen sinuses will try to smother them). It has been a rough weekend.
And on top of that, I’m still sick.
Last night, I took a nice long walk outside. It was my second real outing since getting sick. I walked in circles around my neighborhood, making sure to stay relatively close to home in case my body started to fall apart. And when I say walk, I mean stroll. Gently floating along while listening to Pavement. A very chill evening. Then I woke up this morning sore as if I had worked my butt off the night before. Maybe I’ll never run three miles. My body can barely even move anymore.
There is a part of me that is glad everything is going up in smoke. I am usually someone who moves quite slowly. I like to take a long time to make a decision. I like to plan and ponder and research and then plan some more. And while I am gently inching towards a decision, I am beating myself up for not living more spontaneously. But this whole project has been very spontaneous. I had the idea on a Thursday and started the very next day.
If living spontaneously worked too well, I’d have to ask myself some pretty big questions about how I live my life. But no! Turns out that I was right the whole time. The only real way to live is worriedly and anxiously and slowly; scanning the stormy seas of life for any possible obstacles and turning the boat back at the first sign of trouble. If you start making too many moves too fast, your girlfriend is gonna break their butt.
***
Sunday, July 6th
Yesterday was my first real day out of the house since getting sick. I went to the art museum and then saw a movie.
I don’t remember anything I saw at the museum. I was too distracted by all of the people around me–children trying to escape from their parents, couples taking pictures of themselves, large families fighting in hallways. While it wasn’t what I had in mind, it was a nice step towards re-entering the world after two weeks sick in bed. It was like placing a goldfish in her new tank while still in the bag. I could surround myself with people without having to talk to anyone. The closest I ever really got was when a parent flipped their toddler upside down near the entrance to the American section and almost kicked me in the head.
Then I ate two cheeseburgers and went to see La Dolce Vita. Since this movie is older than my parents, I am not going to include any spoiler warnings, but I will offer a quick overview. La Dolce Vita is about one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen wandering around Rome in a daze. In some ways, it is a movie that pulls back the crumbling facades of Italian institutions (celebrity, religion, family, monarchy) to reveal a deep rot. But in many ways, it is a movie about sunglasses. If you like sunglasses, you gotta see it! So much of the movie is watching vapid people have empty conversations, that it made me really wish that I was spending time with the people I really care about. This goldfish is getting used to his tank and would really like to start living his fucking life again.
It turns out that my problems on Monday were worse than I thought. I’ve spent the last few days sick in bed. T has been telling people that I have “one of those summer colds.” I know this because I can hear them saying it when they talk to their friends on the phone. I want to defend myself, but I am usually too busy sneezing.
“One of those summer colds” makes it sound romantic. It could be the name of an Eric Rohmer movie where some middle aged dud and his daughter’s best friend talk about the difference between virtue and morality while sitting in wicker chairs. But this week has not been a French new wave film. It has been more like one of those French horror movies that you think is going to be scary, but it is actually just so sad that you still feel like shit the next day.
And if I can get technical for a moment, I had a fever of 101 on Tuesday. That’s not cold at all.
In terms of my larger project to run three miles, this is definitely a setback. I’m more than a little nervous that by the time I feel well enough to exercise again, I will be more or less back to where I started two weeks ago. There was a part of me earlier in the week that hoped that I could do a light workout while sick, but then I walked two blocks to the library and got so tired I had to lay down for an hour.
Lesson learned.
***
Tuesday, July 1st
Last Thursday, half an hour after I finished my last update, I got a call from T absolutely balling their eyes out. They fell down the stairs at a friend's place, spraining their ankle and bruising their tailbone. Friday morning, T woke up sick with the same virus I have. This means that for the last few days, T has not been able to stand (busted ankle), sit (broken butt), or lay down (their swollen sinuses will try to smother them). It has been a rough weekend.
And on top of that, I’m still sick.
Last night, I took a nice long walk outside. It was my second real outing since getting sick. I walked in circles around my neighborhood, making sure to stay relatively close to home in case my body started to fall apart. And when I say walk, I mean stroll. Gently floating along while listening to Pavement. A very chill evening. Then I woke up this morning sore as if I had worked my butt off the night before. Maybe I’ll never run three miles. My body can barely even move anymore.
There is a part of me that is glad everything is going up in smoke. I am usually someone who moves quite slowly. I like to take a long time to make a decision. I like to plan and ponder and research and then plan some more. And while I am gently inching towards a decision, I am beating myself up for not living more spontaneously. But this whole project has been very spontaneous. I had the idea on a Thursday and started the very next day.
If living spontaneously worked too well, I’d have to ask myself some pretty big questions about how I live my life. But no! Turns out that I was right the whole time. The only real way to live is worriedly and anxiously and slowly; scanning the stormy seas of life for any possible obstacles and turning the boat back at the first sign of trouble. If you start making too many moves too fast, your girlfriend is gonna break their butt.
***
Sunday, July 6th
Yesterday was my first real day out of the house since getting sick. I went to the art museum and then saw a movie.
I don’t remember anything I saw at the museum. I was too distracted by all of the people around me–children trying to escape from their parents, couples taking pictures of themselves, large families fighting in hallways. While it wasn’t what I had in mind, it was a nice step towards re-entering the world after two weeks sick in bed. It was like placing a goldfish in her new tank while still in the bag. I could surround myself with people without having to talk to anyone. The closest I ever really got was when a parent flipped their toddler upside down near the entrance to the American section and almost kicked me in the head.
Then I ate two cheeseburgers and went to see La Dolce Vita. Since this movie is older than my parents, I am not going to include any spoiler warnings, but I will offer a quick overview. La Dolce Vita is about one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen wandering around Rome in a daze. In some ways, it is a movie that pulls back the crumbling facades of Italian institutions (celebrity, religion, family, monarchy) to reveal a deep rot. But in many ways, it is a movie about sunglasses. If you like sunglasses, you gotta see it! So much of the movie is watching vapid people have empty conversations, that it made me really wish that I was spending time with the people I really care about. This goldfish is getting used to his tank and would really like to start living his fucking life again.
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