Today is April 29, 2020.

Twenty-twenty… a repetitive name for a repetitive year. Every day is the same- wake-up, teach, sunbathe, rinse, repeat. I have a variety of tasks I keep in my back pocket for easy access entertainment: a book to read, a canvas to paint, a puzzle to build, a pair of running shoes, a new recipe. And the quarantine ingredients that are constant throughout all of the days- booze and pot.

I’m suddenly reminded of the guy from Infinite Jest who is an agoraphobic pot smoker. He barricades himself in his apartment with pounds of weed, calls out of work for a few days, and smokes himself into oblivion. Is oblivion the only choice we have when we are fearful of leaving our home? When we mix boredom and isolation with drug-use and depression?

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The hardest part is maintaining any form of self-discipline. I spoke with Ash today, and she said, “how much would it truly benefit us, at this time in life, to be severe in our self-discipline?” Why not gain weight? Why not be high and drunk everyday? Why not succumb to our vices in isolation, at least for awhile?

I am grateful for the adventure I had in Florida in late February. In my minivan, cruising up and down the single stretch of road that runs through the Everglades to the town, Flamingo, I thought to myself distinctly, “next chance I have to live my life like this, I’m taking it. I’m spending my summer this way!” As Chris McCandless puts it in Into the Wild, the the joy of an “endlessly changing horizon” is very appealing to people like me. Nature’s Lexapro.

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I think a lot about the things that make me happy, or I suppose I should say, the things that have historically made me happy. Before I started having sex and doing drugs and making and spending money. What do I really want in life? To strike a balance between making myself happy and making others happy would be ideal.

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List of Things that Make Sarah Happy

1. Reading. A purely selfish past-time. These are important though, I think.
2. Painting and making art. “Making art” is a loosely defined term here. I consider being high in bed alone, half lucid-dreaming, half thinking of art projects, “making art”. The problem is, two days later when I try to remember why I thought my high ideas were great, I decide that my high ideas were altogether not that great. I plunk away at my artistry anyway, like an obedient yet reluctant youth in piano lessons, hopeful that one day I’ll strike gold.
3. Writing. Here we go. God, I remember playing with my little action figures for hours as a child, creating complex plot lines, until the plot lines were so complex I started typing them up on my mom’s laptop. I would play for two hours, spend two hours writing up everything I’d acted out, and then do it again the following night. I would fill up on movies and books and regurgitate the symbols, imagery, and themes into my own stories. This is a nice past-time, I think, because I’m able to share my stories. Just like my art.
4. Cooking. Not much to include here. But, good food is important. Cooking a meal is a nice way to spend an hour or so. High reward.

There are other activities I’m missing. Less glamorous, like masturbating to porn, showering high, subjecting myself to runs that leave me red, wet, and salty (ew?).

Anyway, the point of all of this is that I’m going to start writing stories again. I’m going to write every day on this blog. I’m going to post things that I’m writing and share old things I’ve written as well. Poems and paintings, too. Maybe even my runs. Maybe even pictures of what I’ve been up to.

Who the fuck knows. I’m bored.

See ya.