I’m cooking today and it feels nice, and right. “Oooh — I should become a chef.” When I realize I don’t actually want to become a chef, some of the pure content that I had for cooking flags.


And so today I will dream a hundred superficial dreams of who I want to be, job related or not. Constructing these dreams lends me a feeling of omnipotence, and when I tire of them, when the feeling that I have so much life in me soon expires, I come face-to-face with my reality: that I am nothing. I don’t know how to be any one thing, because I am nothing.


- - - -

“It’s the time of the week no one sees but me.”



