When White Noise Becomes Default Noise

In this basement office, I am considered lucky for my corner desk because its sits next to the only window on the floor. Depending on my sleep level or the day in the week, the office lights shift in their piercing. Even in winter, the AC is on, for the basement is always near some boiler that runs the whole building, and, despite such machines, we are still put next to them, breathing the dust and rust, squinting at screens.

Yes. I am in New York City. Even though many times I have to step up and say that I am in New! York! City! but it doesn't matter where one is, if there is routine, there is burnt out, if there is human, there is a focus on the hollow.

The book I am reading these days is Swing Time by Zadie Smith. It's my first Zadie Smith. I have started seeing a therapist for my recently very crippling anxiety. I try to be graceful but sometimes my word vomit just frazzles out. We are human. If you throw money at something, you can be ok for the time being. Oat meal breakfasts. Lots of water. Citrus. Who knew one could instill fear and make a profit out of cowardice?

Lately this: If I don't do anything, nothing will change, until change will knock down my door, grab a hold of my ankles, and drag me.

Lately this: Ammons says in Changing Things -- "I’m sure I was attracted to the possibility of bringing together in one visual consideration the arbitrariness of pure coincidence with the necessity of the essential, the moving from the free, as the work of art begins, through the decisions of pattern and possibility, and into and through the demands of the necessary, the unavoidable, the inevitable. This “change” is in another form the oldest of journeys, that from exile to community."

Lately this: three months of coughing, three months of peak anxiety, train halt panic attack, December December December, sob.

Lately this: Many poems found home.

Lately this: from exile to community to exile to community to-

I am going home after 16 months.