11.4.20

my friend F, a restaurant critic i met at a chef's dinner on a press trip in orlando years ago who told me that same night that his daughter had just been diagnosed with cancer and a car had crashed through the front wall of his house, just texted and said he'd been assigned to be my emotional support canadian and i cried all over my big stupid phone.

11.02.20

i'll be getting up in about five hours to shower and head across the street for my day of work at the polls. i was assigned a "relief" position, which...means i get there first thing and then wait for people to get tired, i guess? i am imagining and hoping that i'll just get sent out to keep an eye on the line outside until someone needs me, as this shift is something like 250% as long as the tribeca film festival volunteer stints that occasionally made me feel like i had actually left my idling body, but we will see what we will see. i have already voted, and i feel good about running back across the street to grab extra clothing and, like, a sandwich, so i'm not going to pack my old tote like i'm heading off to summer camp.

i finished as much of the work-work i have to do for the next few days as i could, at least for tonight, so that anxiety has receded and let the naked moonlit political fear roll up my shore like a dead leviathan. god, how it smells.