August 6, 2021: Some days do not matter

August 6, 2021: Some days do not matter. The early mist provided a good backdrop to be driving. The roads were empty at the witching hour when only a selected few would venture out. And I did. Everything seemed far away, irrelevant as one follows the broken white light partially blinded physiologically, and the rest accomplished by the mist. Distant trucks look like a living being emerging from the mist, and then whizzing past leaving a blinding darkness in its wake. Predictably, the eastern sky behind me did wash out with the rising sun. Coffee in hand, messaging bondhus while I watched the sun come up sitting at some unnamed Starbucks somewhere like the many Starbucks that I have visited. A sense of permanence. The golden arches or the green face. Sometimes with my blindness the “Haldiram” placard from the distance seems like “Hardees.” In the instant of recognition, I realized I have again space shifted. It matters to no one but me. I remain available. The 10:30 am chat with one bondhu or the 4:00 pm administrative meeting, or the 6:00 pm tea with another. As I said before, time reshapes as space shifts. The interruption takes a little time to get over, and in the age of the pandemic, it never gets over. I told a bondhu, I will still be at the 10:30 chats. As long as I have Internet. Again, and again, I am reminded that my existence has been simplified into the connected laptop. Wherever there is a Starbucks I can be there with you. They do not turn off their Internet at night, all you need to do is place yourself outside the shop and you are connected. My son taught me that. My son has taught me a lot about existence. Always keep a blanket in the car. Be careful where you park for a quick nap. What bathrooms are open to whom when. Two years in a car. Try it – immensely educational – ready for anything. The day dragged on through the cycle of the sun in my place, but the sun did not matter. I realized I cannot follow the sun in my patterns. I follow my work. I follow my bondhus. My place is always and already defined by the spots that I am surrounded by and there is an excitement in knowing the one standing next to me is as present as the one who comes home at 8:00 pm. The victim is sleep. Sleep defines the day. And night. But when days do not matter then sleep does not matter either. Maybe this is why I created the hole. Where it is dark all the time. I control the light. “Alexa…” and there the days do not matter. A camera, a screen, blurred background. Covid handed us this, however much we resist, we are in a new place. We could make this happen when the days and nights do not matter but presence does. I am here for you, always, anytime, just call on me. As Mariah Carey said, “Just call my name, and I'll be there.” Covid made this acutely real.

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