Demon Chatter

Time marches on. Time waits for no one. Time serves as the river of the universe. As the old quote, variously (mis)attributed, goes: "time is what keeps everything in the universe from happening at once." Much time has passed since last writing in this blog. Much water under the bridge. Much life lived... perhaps wasted? Don't rightly know. However, the demons in my head know. They're glad to share, too. しょうがないね。

At the beginning of the current plague (pandemic, whatever) vowed to create something. Didn't happen. Got separated from family for over four months. Family got stuck in the 'States when Japan enacted a travel ban for high risk countries (i.e. the 'States.) Hell.. well over a quarter million dead there at the time of writing.

In the empty house, with so much time... did very little, really. (Amazing to learn how many waking moments normally consist of childcare.) Stayed in bed, for a day or three sometimes. Job shifted to an online platform. Set an alarm to wake up for five minutes, upload a lesson document, and go right the fuck back to sleep. Played PlayStation so goddamn much, actually got Platinum Trophies for three different games. Fixed a few things in the house. Ate takeout pizza and Indian at a statistically improbable rate. Did nothing creative. Nothing. Anxiety and depression feasted upon my time like rabid jackals tearing fresh meat from bones. Family okay? Gonna die of a strange, new illness? Work gonna return to normal? Anything gonna return to normal?

Family got back okay, thank providence. Now comes the demon chatter. "Why didn't you do more with all that time?" Indeed, why not? Because crippling anxiety and depression. The demons don't buy that. Not for a minute. They go on and on. しょうがないね。

Back in the office. Back doing work on actual, tactile paper again. Back to the cycle, which now includes additional details like masks, social distancing, hand sanitizer, and extra handwashing. Not a problem. Don't need to trim the mustache as much. A walrus lurks beneath this mask. Goo goo goo joob.

But the demons move on to other things. They dangle unavailable desires like great golden carrots on sticks. They mock this aging carcass. They offer unsolicited reminders of what has become undoable in light of current responsibilities and relationships. Things undoable in light of available time. Both time available in a day... and time remaining in life.

Looking ahead, can see a path obscured by haze.

Smoke from the dumpster fire of my next terrible decision?

Mist rising from the River Styx? Who can say with certainty...

Death waits for no one when the preordained time arrives.

But yet it waits for us all in the end, does it not?

Oh what I would do if I could, but I can't. しょうがないね。

Got the blog, anyway!