I Know It, I Can't Feel It

They keep paying me to blog about how it's all medically necessary, but when push comes to COVID it's one of the first to go. Now is the surgery season of my dis/content as my doctor's office tells me that my medically necessary procedure isn't, like, medically necessary medically necessary, so they'll have to put a pin in sawing my face in half, at least until they get a better handle on the virus.

I told myself I'd deal with it, but then I was on the Williamsburg Bridge with a half-empty handle in my bag, the other half of it poured into the Hal's seltzer bottle in my hand. I don't like playing with bridges, but it's one of the only self-destructive avenues left open now that New York closed the bars down. I could lighter under the tongue like in Jennifer's Body, but I'd rather just have Jennifer's face — inciting mass Lina Morganity as I emerge from quarantine looking indecipherably different and weirdly not the same.

An excess of the bourgeoisie, the Trick Mirror girls might say, all the while demanding that I consider all the purportedly helpless women who claim to be trapped in the Drunk Elephant industrial complex. As if I have compassion for myself… Guess which one I've spent more money on: silicone or fancy goo? In the words of 2014, The Answer Might Surprise You.