Day 9

By: Barbara Kang

31 March 2020

Looking back, it was optimistic of me to think that by day seven–I would be more gratuitous of the handed circumstances (provided food, shelter, water, comfortable bed to sleep in). Instead, I am haunted by regrets, notions of unfinished business and the constant shame of loneliness. I acknowledge those who are predisposed to art studio practice–the artists would be, rather, should be more accustomed to being alone. Although the individual has control of his or hers perception and conclusively, the state of mind, I am inclined to think that I am not suitable for this state of seclusion.

Ethan Cole, Isa Elwaw making ‘Veal stuffed Brown Butter Agnolotti with shaved truffle’

I have increasingly become reliant on staying connected through technology and short-term gratifications. How dangerous would it be if we lost access to reception? This is evident in our irritation with lagging service in occasional zoom calls. I have reached a point of cynicism that (though it is essential to one’s self growth to permit the time alone in order to reflect without other variables or disruptions) the highest level of introspection is not viable without exposure to new experiences and other people. Granted, how we react to social caused events provides a plethora of information about ourselves (desires, strengths, weaknesses, distastes). The pandemic is an unforeseen event that is wreaking havoc in our society, but an event in which we are forced to serve for the greater good (a collaborative effort to flattening the curve) and in which our routines were taken from us all too suddenly. There is a constant disintegration and assimilation of my thoughts may it be day or night. Then again, I have been 5 days sober without alcohol or other substances to slow my inhibitions. I’ve resorted to closing the shutters of all my windows to lessen the sadness that may arise from watching the sunrise and sunset.

Robin Wright, “How Loneliness from Coronavirus Isolation Takes Its Own Toll,” The New Yorker.
Daniel Arsham, Calcified Room, 2019.

I am blessed with the periodic eruption of my own laughter watching Bert Kreisher’s new netflix special, Hey Big Boy or from self ridicule for slipping in the bath tub again. I need to clean my grievances.

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