Between pandemic and political collapse, there's been space for at least one thing to burgeon: my inability to sit still. Or focus. Or breath out slowly and relax.

These are anxious times even for a man anxious in the best of times. Fear, worry and despair have all shown up for dinner and don't know what to say to each other. How awkward.

I think of a few other typical/suitable images: a taut chord vibrating under strain, an inability to pull ones' head above the surface of the water, being unable to move the arms or legs. Ah, anxiety. The hot heat that rises up from my gut and gets my brain boiling.

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