Tonight is tonight and tomorrow… tomorrow
Tonight is the last night before I go. And I’m going dumb, just like we all agreed. I don’t know the location, except for it might be under a mango tree. (Who thought of that, putting a man abstaining from food underneath a tree that drops its fruit when the fruit is perfect for eating? Who, I ask?) I’ve been warned that I might have to build my own shelter, which is great. I know my half-hitch, my wrap, and whatever that’s called when you turn the wrap so it cinches it all in. But am I going to be given rope? Or a knife to make cording with? Or gloves to prevent macerated hands? A machete? Is there material to build a shelter anywhere about this mango tree?
Mark Matthews asked me today if I had any dry clothes. For a year I’ve been telling him I want a rain-suit. It looks like another of those minimum requirements that got dropped because of budgetary concerns, like Western-style medical monitoring and before and after fMRI pictures of my brain. Maybe he’s trying to scare me. Maybe it’s a ruse to get even with me for the past year of trusting neglect I’ve given the project. It wouldn’t surprise me if he took a perverse joy in setting me in a mosquito-infested rainforest sans slicks and shelter. Possibly a ruse, a little prank, a bit of mischief on Mark’s part, but… I have a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Speaking of stomachs… My last bit of solid food was a half-slice of pizza either nine or ten days ago. My sister would kill me if she knew. Three weeks of a greens-no-gluten diet, followed by this last bit of only drinking fruit and vegetable juice – a couple of quarts every day – has just peeled off what little fat I had left after a December spent walking around New York. I’m ripped. My abs haven’t looked like this in over a decade. And of course, I can’t help thinking that I might not weigh enough.
Yesterday I had my first lay-in-bed-and-shake panic but it didn’t last long. Only a couple of minutes. Remembering to breathe alleviated the fear.
And I wonder how many of those moments I have in front of me.