And Rumors of Wars

Part 1

Shaky and out of breath. It’s unclear if I’m anxious or sick. Bombarded with depressing sh*t. A sixth grader shot and killed (too soon to talk about the trouble with guns). ISIS bombed Iran. The U.S. bombed Iraq. Confusing, I don’t understand geopolitics at all. A perpetual headline now: “Fear Grows of Spreading War.”

I watched Bob’s Burgers as I ate my dinner. Usually fast and funny, tonight it floored me. Fourth-grader Rudy went to a restaurant with his divorced parents and their dates. Heart-wrenching. Awkward feels worse than mean. Resigned is worse than angry. I wanted to cry.

Maybe anxious but probably sick. Again.

Last week, lingering nausea. An unwell feeling washed over my body. A mystery lump settled in the base of my throat. A vomit trigger that never activated. Saturday morning yoga: my head spun, my vision blotched. I dropped out and went home. This week, a building cold… or covid… or something… A high-pressure system parked behind my eyes. Susan and Sophie just left the house. Thursday night yoga this time. Maybe I should have gone with them to get out of my head.

Part 2
Susan suggested I watch a comedy, a funny one this time. “Or listen to a podcast. Lie on your back on the floor. It will open you up.” I listened to a Beatles podcast about the White Album. I knew all the stories. Comforting, like a familiar bedtime book. Paul being the prig. George and Ringo at the end of their tether.

Last week I watched Carpool Karaoke for the first time. In this episode, James Corden picked up Paul McCartney, and they drove around Liverpool singing Beatles songs together. Near the end of the show, Paul and his band played a surprise afternoon gig in a tiny pub. A curtain opened and the most famous Beatle began playing his songs. The shocked crowd was so overcome with joy some started to cry.

I wish Paul would drop by my house tonight and sing a few songs.