Reading Joan Didion
i find myself pacing around my block holding a book called Play It As It Lays. Like most works by Joan Didion, i get absorbed in it.
the weather’s been furrowing its eyebrows lately. warm temperatures came and went like a speeding car, alerting people of its presence but confusing them by its absence once it sped by; despite this, i still find myself picking up this book and reading it. is it because it’s a light read? my pace slows down even more.
there’s a corner on California Ave that is mostly vacant. the store that occupies it is advertising tarot readings. i choose that corner and pace a few laps watching a cybertruck stare me down as i cross the street, eyes latched onto this book.
“it’s like taking a shower,” i tell myself, silently, of course. a quick shower, probably, but a refreshing one.
this is what it’s like to read Joan Didion.