june 4, 2017 | 1:08am, 4m | vanilla

ran and wondered if one of the… no, i choose to refrain from making my nighttime check-ins exclusively about physical ailments. i described these to a 70+ year old student the other day—my general health issues—as geriatric. he mentioned in the lesson that he had begun my book and made his way through more than half. two things happened for me: one, i thought he’d read it, so i wondered about the first time he’d claimed to have read it. and two, i shuddered to think of what he’d find in those pages. when i came out of the closet over ten years ago, i told everybody. anybody. when i moved to new york and started this blog, i built it on the foundation of oversharing. lately, however, i feel more reserved and walled in. each morning i wake up and regret that i’ve even chosen to write mundanities here each night before bed. and surely something else must have happened today. nine hours of teaching. a wilted spinach salad. a run in the park, a long bath while reading about cage’s percussion music. lying on the bed afterward. looking too much at my phone. macdowell as my husband takes a bath. chicken soup and melted mexican cheese on corn tortillas for dinner. we went to shake shack at 10:59 for ice cream and, having already paid and with the establishment closed with ours the final order, we waiting for our cups of custard to appear when a worker draped herself across the counter and said to us in a tone of exhaustion and generosity, “do you want a shackburger?”