Epidemiology

The great conversation about writing literature had stopped. The citizens went back to throwing plastic bags into the ocean, throwing Honda Civics into the ocean. Some of the the citizens were bleeding. Seals ate plastic. So did sharks. In fact even the molecules of the sea were eating plastics. They all got used to it. I found that you couldn’t taste it after a while. Some called this whole thing a “cultural revolution,” others furiously posted pictures of their home-cooked meals to their author sites. I did this once in a while but I’m not that good of a cook and once I thought to put marshallows on top of a slab of pâté, chickpeas in meatloaf.

What is the difference between being “patient zero” and winning the lottery? Statistically, nothing. You touched a pig? You ate a bird? You took a flight and sat next to the woman with the long white hair and grey skin? Well, now the genie is out, isn’t he, with his discombobulated look and powdered wig!

The writer known as J knows all of this and thus, is unfazed. He is not the type to ask questions. He posts most of his writing–polished drafts, finished pieces even things that he knows are pitiful–to his author site. In the old days, most would have considered this giving up, but no one cares about that sort of thing anymore.

At night in Hiroshima etc.

At night in Provence etc.

At night in Antwerp etc.

In the old days, the creative writing teachers would have called this type of thing I’m doing here “typing” but now they no longer bother to label it even that.

So J carries on–posting and typing and once in a while someone makes a comment on his author site such as “great piece” but more often there’s just silence.

At night in New Orleans

At night in Seattle

At night in Krakow

In the old days, the creative writing teachers would have called this sort of thing “erratic” “scattered” (secretly thinking, of course, that J had no talent). But then, what difference is it to J?

J boards a plane

J travels by bus

J boards a ship

J tells a secret to a woman with a nose ring at the local coffee shop he frequents.

J frequents

J frequently

J’s frequency

Some call it “the frequency,” others call it good luck. If you happen to turn on the radio, you might find out who won the lottery. If you happen to turn on the radio, you might get the flu. If you happen to turn on the radio, you might win the lottery. If you happen to turn on the radio, you might get the lottery. If you happen to turn on the radio, you might get the initial patient.