Shivering in Nashville

It was 33 degrees F at 1 am on a Friday in Nashville and I was in my largely comfortable hotel-room bed, but my weirdly feet weirdly cold and I was trying to get warm under the covers. OMG, I thought, I might have the novel coronavirus! I looked into my throat in the bathroom, tested my cough. Nothing unusual. I walked to the sliding glass doors and stared at the illuminated McDonald’s sign across the street. I was thinking about how we never allow our cities to be dark at night anymore and how that would be so so so lovely. I was thinking about how cold the sliding glass door felt on the tip of my nose and then I realized: Oh! It’s def freezing outside or near it. Let’s check the heat. But the heat was not set. The room was being blasted with cold air. Oh, I thought, that explains why my feet and body feel shivery. Twenty minutes later, the room is warm, and I have a few late-night feelings. That philosophical pillow of the mind before one drifts off.

What humans want to do is write, and make art, and play with each other, to make shelter together, to sing, to have sex, to walk beaches and woods. Humans want to create things together. We gather in what we call cities to be close to each other, to share ideas. Hyper-capitalism (NOT market economies) gets in the way of all of these things. We need to design better ways to trade and share and collaborate.

Late night feelings — catalyzed by very, very cold toes and anxiety. Sigh.