I kept daydreaming because I read somewhere that it was good for me. Nor for me specifically, but for everyone, for the entire mankind and perhaps other species as well who are capable of daydreaming. Good, how? I don’t know. A general goodness, I assume. An all-encompassing goodness that invades your entire body, from your finest hair strand to your most callused cuticle. The kind of goodness that is not questioned, but taken for granted immediately. The kind that lets you travel to places without having to lift a finger. Internal traveling. Paying mind visits. Dropping by invisibly. I’m in Minnesota at the moment, a place I know nothing about. I’ve seen the name in a story that I couldn’t make myself read earlier today on the train. Minnesota, where that character is from, the character whose name I forget. I wasn’t interested at all in what that author had to say. All I can remember is the name Max Donaldson, just because it sounded like McDonalds and it still does. I’m in Minnesota, a place I know nothing about. I imagine an empty highway, a few diners here and there along the way, their names lit up in neon lights, because that’s what I’ve seen in movies and pictures at modern art museums in this city or that. I don’t see any people. Isolation comes to mind when I think of Minnesota, maybe because both words share the letters “i,” “n,” “s,” “o,” “t,” and “a.” I see streetlights. Electric poles. Wires. That’s what I see in my mind’s eye when I think of Minnesota. “My mind’s eye,” how I hate that phrase, yet I still use it. I’m 30 minutes away from a hotel room, 40 from a tuna sandwich. Was that Nabokov? Do I need to use quotations if it’s Nabokov? Would I be accused of plagiarism if I don’t use quotations even though this is a daydream? I’m 40 minutes away from a hotel room, 30 from a tuna sandwich. Where are you? Asks my co-worker, female, dark-hair, olive skin, honey-colored eyes, 5’3”, weight unknown. Uranus, I say. But I write it. That’s not funny, she says. I laugh silently. She turns to her computer screen. I close my eyes. I see myself standing in front of two floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the sea. I’m in my parents’ 11th floor apartment. It’s getting dark. The sky is a grey veil across navy blue eyes. The sea is split into two. The front is full of agony, big waves wrestling with small waves, small waves trying to tackle big waves. The water is black from a distance, violet from up close. The back is calm. No waves in sight. Jade from top to bottom. I knew colors could do this, I tell myself. I knew one day I would see the sea devour itself. I feel satiated, triumphant. We don’t carry anything sexual, and we stay away from violence, my boss says. I open my eyes. He is on the phone. You’re a disgusting pig, says my co-worker. Female, dark hair, olive skin, honey-colored eyes, 5’3”, weight unknown.
"I’ve tried to explain, ‘Bei Mir Bistu Shein’
So kiss me and say you understand”
How will the government shutdown affect AMERICA?