I Don't Even Know

The summer afternoon is beautiful. I'm sprawled out on a green sofa in a tiny rented living room overgrown with houseplants, listening to my fancy mini-stereo. I'm about to drink some way strong beer, but don't worry — I'll be sober by six thirty.

My grammar checker doesn't like the phrase "way strong beer," but then again, it has something of a joyless approach to language, paying close attention to participles past and present, clauses, and gerunds, whatever the hell they are, but there's no liveliness or art to any of its suggestions. A digital schoolmarm in love with the rules but don't get out much these days.

I'm in the middle of processing various things. For example, not counting my family, as of this morning, I have exactly one friend who still lives in the city, and she's all the way out in Roxborough or some imaginary place like that, and "friends" is a stretch because we haven't actually seen each other in years and only text once in a while. So, realistically, I have no friends in town. I used to have lots and lots of them, but everyone moved away (or occasionally died). I don't blame them. Philly is obnoxiously filthy and gross, and professional opportunity is severely limited here as big cities go. You can work for Comcast, U of Penn, Jefferson, Temple, CHUBB, or GFY. It's not worth the aggravation.

And I'm still seething over the U of Arts debacle. The college kids are flooding into town for the new school year. They're aspiring medical professionals, data scientists, prompt engineers, and assorted STEM cogs hoping to land a coveted internship at Spacely Space Sprockets. They all wear nondescript athletic gear, silkscreened with the university logo of choice. Conservative haircuts crown half-hearted attempts at gym bodies. No kin of mine, these people. Not a one of them has turquoise hair, face piercings they gave themselves, or practice tattoos inked by friends from the dosshouse. I want the artists back. My peoples.

And I've decided I'm done with Meta. My last few experiences on Facebook and Instagram were what I'd describe as tiresome. I'm not having arguments or getting in fights or anything like that. I'm just not interested in anything people are talking about or the way they're interacting. It's not my scene. Not even a little. This'll probably be the last thing I bother posting on Facebook for a few years. So, I guess I'll see you around, or not, or whatever.