there should be lifestyle anarchy

Whether it's a form of emotional mediation or self-denial, I've found myself trying to do what's often been advised in this prolonged state of social isolation, which is to stick to a routine and time-table as if we were under normal conditions. You know, things like "dress up even though you're not leaving your house," or "keep your regular meetings," or "adhere to social graces, like saying hello," or "eat a normal breakfast like eggs and not, say, candy." Because, I'm told, structure is helpful when the days mash and bleed together to a point of lost definition like smashed potatoes.

(Tangentially, I heard this very same piece of advice was given to Will Smith as he prepared for his role on I Am Legend, which I'm not sure whether is underrated as a Will Smith, but is definitely underrated as a Dog Movie. It's certainly better than Balto, which is bullshit.)

But of course, I'm not doing very well at this forced performance of normalcy, because I just can't summon enough focus or drum up any creative juices in the morning — which is when I usually do most of my work— given the greater levels of anxiety that I'm waking up with because of, oh, you know, *circles air with finger* And so I often find myself staring limply into the wall by 10 am, loathing myself enormously for not having done anything and, more generally, for not being able to fake it 'til I norm it.

Which is to say, this isn't working for me. Maybe it works for some folk, but there's something in the logic of the prescription that I simply can't compute in my brain. These aren't normal times! Why am I working to simulate normalcy?? It feels like I'm trying to double-speak my brain into submission. Why am I not feeling more compelled to lean into the other direction? Why am I not feeling more compelled to be free?

All of which is to say, I'm refusing to wear pants tomorrow.

Long live The Dog.