Last summer, I read My Days of Rest and Relaxation for the first time. Shocker, because someone that looks like me should be able to recite the scripture of sad women worldwide like the back of my head. Funnily enough, I mirrored the behavior of the main character as I paced my way through the book, falling in and out of consciously, sometimes stoned and sometimes not, but always delirious.
I mean, of course I felt it was justified because my life was horrible. You can look at everything that is amazing about a Californian summer and determine this is the worst place to be on earth—in your mind at least. If every single person seemingly wronged you, and someone wise told me it was okay to sleep for a whole year, someone other than Otessa Moshfegh, why wouldn’t I listen? They have trekked the path I’m now embarking on, days of accepting the things I can’t change.
I find myself in a similar position now. I sleep absurd hours, even more insane than the previous two years (which I thought had been bad already), doing somehow even less things. I wonder if I’m depressed, or my medication isn’t properly working, or it’s one of my new diagnosed conditions. It’s always something with this bitch body of mine, always begging, never giving back. Greedy old bitch that she is.
I don’t have any desire to change the current circumstances, and I think that’s my issue. I can think of a 100 million problems Iggy Azalea described in her song with Ariana Grande and none of which I have the willful action to follow up with the deliberate reasoning. I like sleeping my way till dusk. I like only being awake for the bare minimum hours necessary and not a single second more. I’m not sure if I have adapted this lifestyle out of a lazy consumption of time, or the chat robot really doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t know what I’m talking about.
This is the premiere human experience, isn’t it? Attaining a level of boredom with no survival instinct, no predator behind your back, only concrete jungles and 7-elevens. And if you live in Los Angeles, green juice and cycling classes. And if you live in America, TikTok sponsored bio hacking and new age eating disorder supplements. I have nothing to give and things to lose.
The pennies and dimes have stained my bathroom tiles emerald green, and I’m leaving the remnants of coins once touched by moisture for artisanal reasons. I am not picking up the pieces, for decorative purposes.
I am getting ready for my third rest of the day. I’m wearing no shirt, brandy melville shorts and purple crew socks. This isn’t some fantasy outfit. I just always wondered what it was like to be a boy wearing an outfit like this. Each of my sleeps takes place in 10 minute to approximately 3 hour segments, and the dreams are never pleasant either. I used to fear sleep for a moment because the dreams were so atrocious, and now I just see them as a byproduct of my greed for making up for lost time.
I am headed into another summer slumber, and you are invited.
shari wei 