Day 60 under shelter-in-place/quarantine/isolation whatever. Today they announced we’ll be in for another 90 days… at least. Like, at this point, it’s like… will we ever go back to normal. Is this the point in the novel where the protagonist starts to understand? That we’re in a fully-fledged dystopia? It’s just so wild.

Since this started we have watched a TON of documentaries, including Wild, Wild Country, Spaceship Earth, and Heavenly Bodies. All these docs that begin with people saying “we were at a point where we no longer trusted or believed in what America was, we were ready for new forms of community.” And honey… I’m there. Put me on the commune. Put me on an island. Give me a garden. Like I am done.

I, at this point, cannot go back to thinking that what I do for work matters. at. all. Like whooooo caaaaaares. This has really turned into the crisis where you really, really feel the clarity of the statement: you have one life. I just… cannot imagine that I spend the rest of it ONLY designing learning management software for fucking taco fucking bell.

I started volunteering at the LGBT Center. I started volunteering with this queer cartography website. I started drawing a LOT more. I am fully thinking like… how do I pull the ‘chute on this trajectory.

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Oh, also I started therapy. Let’s just say it: my tarot teacher recommended a Jungian dream analyst who moonlights as a shaman who also founded several global queer radical organizations. He is 82 years old. It’s maybe the best thing that has ever happened to me. He is like an editor, for my subconscious? I tell him my dreams, which are like an essay composed of my thoughts, all out of order, but there’s some good shit there; anyway, he takes them, rearranges them and hands them back and it’s like “oh yeah, that’s what I meant.” And it’s profound, and meaningful, and he just encourages me to do good, and be my best, and to decide what what I want to do and be.

Which is very frustrating when there’s nothing I am allowed to do.