Today for the first time I didn’t wash my face; I simply never got around to it. A rainy, cool and gloomy day– I wasn’t planning to run any Favors today, but a personal errand took me to a center of commerce and I thought, why not, I’m out anyway, let’s see what they’ve got.
The first offer was insanely inconvenient. So crazy that I was tempted to accept it because it seemed like a game. Drive a long way to a distant Starbucks, acquire one single beverage, and deliver it to an address even further afield? 30 miles of driving to deliver one drink? Iced sweet tea?? Maybe this would be Easter Egg that hatches the mystical $1000 tip, I wondered? After a moment of consideration, I declined.
Favor disapproves when you decline an offer. They let you know by activating the “Acceptance Rate” feature, which only gets active when you say no thanks; mine went down.
But another Favor popped up immediately, a shopping trip to a nearby HEB. After scanning the list of desired items, I accepted.
It was a small order. Some cheese/milk/eggs, some kitty litter, a few cleaning supplies. From the freezer aisle, downscale ice cream and a bag of tater tots.
The delivery address was tony, but in Austin you can still sometimes find an old dump of a place in an expensive neighborhood surrounded by grand houses. That’s what I expected.
The house, when I got there, was not what I expected. A high-gloss, recent and pricey build. A “for sale” in the front yard.
“You have a cool house,” I told the attractive older man who came to the door after I’d rung the fancy doorbell with my sleeved elbow.
“It’s for sale if you want to buy it!” he responded gamely.
Driving there and home, I scanned my podcast options. Just out today, the latest New Yorker Fiction podcast (issue date of May 18th, how exactly does that work?). A Jonathan Lethem story. I pressed play. I like his work but the speed and volume of his output makes me nervous. He’s prolific in a way that stresses me out.
Looking at the sky, such an incredible sky, I voice- recorded my poem.
I am spontaneously healed.
I am invisible. I can fly.
If I wanted to, I could see through your clothes to your underwear, but I don’t.
I don’t care about anything. I care about everything.
My headlights are on and off at the same time.
My brake lights are flashing.
My windshield wipers move not together
like synchronized swimmers, but
individually, each expressing itself in its own way.
I’m dreaming. It’s a lucid dream, so I can control what happens.
I could decide to wake up, but I’m choosing to stay asleep.