The pleasant trance

Trying Not to Go Under

I pull into the driveway, get out of my car, and think of all the things I can take care of as soon as I get inside. I need to take a shower, wash the dishes, tidy up the place, do laundry.

Or, if these chores are too mundane, I could watch a movie on Criterion Channel, or read a book from my 3000-volume library. (I’ve reached a point in my life where I can truly say I have “enough” books. If you told me I would never be allowed to buy a new book again, and could only read books I already own, I would shrug my shoulders and say “OK.”)

Or I could exercise, or meditate, or touch a guitar, or like, call my aunt.

Or I could post something on Substack (like I’m doing now!).

Anything, anything at all, except the one thing I’ve been doing since smartphones were invented.

Which is to sink into the pleasant trance. Scrunched up in a comfortable chair, or swaddled in blankets on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.

I have terrible time management, is what I tell myself.

The truth is, it’s the shiny rectangular black hole that feeds on time.

I have so many dreams and desires for what’s left of my life. They’re kinda half-baked, but they exist, and they’re waiting for me.

I must do something, or do nothing. But not this grey haze of the in-between. Not anymore.

I must not sink into the pleasant trance!