Entry 86

Written 19 May 2020, 9:38am, Tuesday:

I’m at some car dealership, sitting across a desk from me is a woman. I’ve decided to buy something, decided to use my U.S. card to pay, pulling it out from my wallet, calculating in my head how much would be withdrawn from my account. I didn’t want to be charged extra if I were to use my Portuguese card.

Then there’s an image of a Lysol spray bottle, lemon, sprayed on a dish of ‘arroz caldo.’ I could taste the detergent lemon-flavored. I was sure my mom had emptied out and cleaned the bottle before putting in real lemon juice, that she just wanted the spray-function of the bottle. But I still emptied the bottle half-way and put water in it to dilute the liquid inside.

Then I’m in front of a couple of actors performing some sort of musical. The spotlight hangs atop some locker. I pull it down and manually direct it in front of the performers. I start singing the song, “More than this,” by Roxy music. “More than this / You know there’s nothing. . .”