Myself as another person

Sidewalks are interesting to walk again.

Walking, the last thing you want to do is to think, but thinking's all you can do at the moment.

You thought the wind kept you awake last night but it was actually your own house--the wind was merely playing with the scaffolding affixed to the front of the house and the black sheets draped over the scaffolding that kept you awake.

You see the 'picture' of the coronavirus the fake news keeps putting up on tv screens, thinking it's kind of a beautiful image, and if it's not beautiful--beautiful being defined as something you'd like to try to make a painting of yourself--that it at least looks like something Pac-Man might eat and therefore destroy, but not before making it clear that a virus is only something else competing for life.

You become your own psychiatrist, but looking yourself in the eye and expecting an answer doesn't produce the answer you'd hoped for and so you stop seeing your own psychiatrist.

Walking is still the best thing you can do. The second best thing is to pay attention while you're walking. The third best thing is to ride your bicycle, but never, ever on the sidewalk.

Riding your bicycle you're the kind of person who actually thinks about Rimbaud's, "I is another."

Where does this thinking get you? To the thought that a series of mistakes might culminate in a good result.