November, Itemized

Terror is both in and out this month, which about sums it up.

What’s working: grapefruit in the morning, which feels like virtue without requiring any. Donkey Kong. Curry-mango sauce on everything—I mean everything. Bill Murray in all situations, as a general life principle. The sanctity of schnitzel day, which should be codified and isn’t. A washing machine that actually functions, the specific joy of which I can only explain to someone who’s lived without one for a while. Skyping with Hannah. Sleeping with older women, which remains its own kind of education. Already drafting year-end reviews in November, because if I wait until December nothing gets written. Looking forward to Berlin Fashion Week and the excuse to see the whole crowd again. Dumbbells positioned next to the bed so at least the intention is visible. Destroying the internet.

What isn’t working: internet memes, which had a reasonable run. Twitter charts, which never had one. Google Street View, still. The moment of reunion, always worse than the anticipation. Too much sleep, somehow producing less energy than not enough. Ex-girlfriends with large breasts and the no-touching rule that now applies—both ends of that situation, equally miserable. Christmas markets before December, which is jumping the gun, and also I just don’t like them. Magazines performing being the internet. Scratches on the MacBook that appear without explanation or mercy.

Also in the out column: clandestine friendships, empty threats, getting a back spasm while masturbating (it happened; moving on), yet another existential crisis (also happened), whatever the neighbors are doing with those iron blocks at eleven at night, apartments styled like orthodontist waiting rooms, mistaking iPhone ownership for a personality, confusing love with security—which are related problems, when you think about it—and your mother on Facebook.

The darkness of the moment is technically out too. Still working on that one.