I wrote on a napkin, “as the class war intensifies, the X-mas music will get louder”

December 15, 2018
Hadley, Massachusetts

I was out the door before 7:30 and walked down my street to the corner where there is a Dunkin’ Donuts. I was working on a pretty ambitious book review on deadline and had to make substantial progress on reading a book about a politics for the anthropocene before meeting someone at 11.

I drank a big americano and sat in the Dunkin’ Donuts in a nooked seating area behind a christmas tree. The drive thru rolled by behind me while I tried to read about how humans have altered nature. I was reading about the settler frontier and genocide of indigenous people while the loudspeaker blasted “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.” The TV behind the X-mas tree had a story about J-Lo’s next moves and opening up about A-Rod.

A couple of cops came in and stood chatting, blocking the entrance to the nook I was sitting in; it felt claustrophobic. I don’t care for law enforcement. I wrote on a napkin, “as the class war intensifies, the X-mas music will get louder.” I started thinking about my favorite X-mas song, which is called “All I Want For Christmas is Lowered Expectations.” A yoga mom and her kids came and sat at the table next to me, and one of the kids said, “Look mom, a kitty, it’s a kitty,” and the mom responded, “I don’t care.” I had read a chapter of my book. I went to the library across the street to check my email since I had left my phone at home.

I then walked down the main drag of Hadley, MA, to a fancy brunch spot where I met a childhood best friend’s dad who was in town randomly. I hadn’t seen him years, but used to be at his house all the time when I was a teenager. We talked politics and he bought me a vegan “benedict,” which tasted okay. He told me how his political orientation changed since he became an empty-nester and the world had changed too. I told him some half-baked ideas about why the left needs to build institutions, but don’t think I was convincing. We both agreed on a political principle, which is “fuck civility.” It was nice to see him.

I walked home to keep reading and got a text that said “hey we need to talk soon” from someone I play music with. I ate an apple. I hate those texts. But he came over and we went for a walk by the river. We talked about something he was struggling with and wanted to tell me about. We then went to a coffee shop together, the third one of the day, which is unusual for me. I finished my book, he worked on a paper for school, and I commented several times on how bad the playlist — a lot of Avett Brothers-ish fare — was. The coffee shop was full of college students writing final papers. There still wasn’t enough coffee to make me feel less tired.

He took me back home and I anxiously made dinner and drank tea. I thought: “you can’t eat nerves.” I am just starting to see somebody. I like her. I went to her apartment for the first time. We drank more tea and she told me she was reading about Anarcho-Syndicalism on Wikipedia. She asked me if I believed in representative democracy. I deflected because I don’t really know and said something about slaveholders. We talked, kissed, and ate popcorn. Her apartment is spacious and nice. Her roommate’s cat liked me I think.

I drove back home and listened to a song that my band had made that was finally mastered. I called my friend the mastering engineer on the phone, I used to live with him, and we talked about whether or not the EP was “salvageable.” We think it might be.

Back home my roommates were complaining about another roommate. I sat in the next room and tried to ignore it but couldn’t stop listening. I went outside and smoked some pot with one of the complainers and looked up at the stars. I don’t remember the last time I smoked pot, I don’t really like to, but thought it might help because I haven’t been sleeping well. I was stoned, not tired, so I responded to some emails.

I ate some cookie butter ice cream, and, after a while, I went to sleep.