I tried something new this evening. I should have done this before. I went scrolling through random podcasts, in search of fiction. Before, I’ve only listened to political podcasts or interviews with celebrities or some other interesting sort of person. Years ago I tried some app that might have been a free demo of audible, but the book I chose was horrible and I questioned why I ever bothered before a chapter was up. That was the last time I intentionally sought out fiction to listen to. What a mistake that was. Just like the old days when I would stumble upon a well-crafted story on NPR while driving cross country (and invariably lose signal before the ending), I found a podcast that reads short stories. I scrolled to the bottom of the list, and selected the oldest one available. I decided if I liked it, I would work my way newer each time. The story I heard was science fiction, about an artist who lives in a world where virtual reality was replaced by “reality” that was still computer simulated, but so ubiquitous that almost no one lived “for real” anymore. He moved between his real world Parisian tenement, virtual visitations by his long-dead wife, and the Musee d’Orsay where he seemed to have an intimate relationship with the figures in paintings. I really enjoyed listening to it, except for the occasional sour note when the woman reading it would mispronounce words here and there. I’ll be doing this again, and soon.
Things have slowed down at the Park, but not because we necessarily wanted them to. Friday, we sent XS to a Rotary weekend in Denver, and between the two of us left, we slept most of the day away. For once, I’m not the one who has it worse. I’m feeling wiped out, sure, but the Mr looks like he has a full-blown flu. I’m gonna try to sleep off whatever I have as much as possible. I hope he does the same.
While I was listening to my Parisian artist story, he was pouring catnip on the rug in the dining room. Suddenly all the little junkies showed up to play, and within seconds, there was a rumble on the street corner. And the story changes as the angle of the camera changes. Where from overhead it looks just like Athena and Harvey chilling out, rubbing catnip all over their faces, if one pans down to the side, the look of abject terror on Harvey's face at the idea of Athena getting intoxicated five inches from his face is revealed.
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