I can't do group sobs anymore.
I am reacting to public violence with sexual hunger. Monterey Park is a very short distance from where I grew up. Friends live there who run businesses just like the dance studio. Half Moon Bay is around the bend from where I went to college. My reaction to the mediatized violence against asians this year? I’m horny.
Don’t worry. I know it’s untoward but it feels fine, manageable. Tortured longing for deep and unique, specific physical connections in light of massive machine made violence. I was lying in bed listening to the drones of the washing machine through two floors and thought for a moment what if we found each other two floors up in the sky and found our apex if not a climax.
I attempt to intellectualize these physical reactions with word forms. I don’t actually want to do anything but want.
And all I will have left, in the end, is the wanting. Wanting is all I will have left in the end. The wanting will be all I have left. All I have left will be the wanting.