I haven’t got time for the pain
I woke up this morning, January 30th, the last Friday of January in 2026, and realized I never posted last night, so I hastily got something together and posted it.
They say it’s this morning that the cold is the coldest day of the year so far, and it certainly felt like that. I woke up on time and immediately wanted to stay in bed, but I could not.
The second four-day work week is nearly ended. Last week was planned; this past week was not.
So Mike’s boyfriend bought tickets for a cruise in May from Orlando to the Bahamas. Mike just has to get a flight from Newark to Orlando. The whole thing only works if Mike is not working.
Last night, while walking home, I was thinking about the 21st sandwich that I was going to have for dinner, tuna fish. I’m going to leave the Google errors in. As I walked up Washington Street, I saw an ad for quesadillas and realized it had been a while since I’d had one, so I went to Qdoba and ordered one.
I showed them my Qdoba card, and they said scan it and it turned out it was buy one get one free, and it was expiring that night. Whether or not it was true, I don’t know, but I bought two. I had one last night. I thought I’d eat two last night, but one was enough.
Bill is not a fan of Mexican food, so I decided to bring it to work today and heat it in the toaster oven in the kitchen. And being the idiot that I know I am, I wasn’t sure if the toaster oven was working properly, so I touched it, and within half a second, I had burned the tips of my fingers.
For the past couple of hours, it’s been bothering me. I was taking some Advil, and that seems to have done the job, or maybe it’s just time that feels that room. Or maybe it’s because I put my finger in my piss as I stood at the urinal and that seemed to do an immediate thing of dispelling the pain.
I was thinking of Kevin Wagner, who I may have written about before in the past, a former good friend whose heart I broke when I didn’t come out to him out of the closet, and he felt greatly upset, and I didn’t trust him. And like in Ted Lasso, Colin didn’t tell Jacob because he was afraid of Jacob rejecting him. It was the same thing with me, with me afraid of Kevin rejecting me, but that’s not what friends do, but that’s what I was afraid of. I have not heard from Kevin in over 40 years. I look for him online, but he does not have much of a presence at all, so I don’t even know if he’s alive.
He was a good man who married a woman named Ann and moved down to Florida, and that was the last I heard of him
Google Gemini rewrite as a Fran Lebowitz essay
It is January 30th, 2026—the final Friday of a month that has already lasted several years—and it is, according to people who care about such things, the coldest day of the year. I believe them. I knew this the moment I woke up, because the air in my bedroom had the distinct, murderous quality of a meat locker. My first instinct was to stay in bed until April, but life, unfortunately, requires one to be upright.
I realized I hadn’t “posted” the night before. This is the modern condition: we no longer live lives, we maintain records of them. I hastily threw something together and sent it into the void. It was an act of clerical duty, not art.
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### On Logistics and Leisure
We are finishing the second four-day work week of the year. Last week was a matter of intent; this week was a matter of accident.
Then there is Mike. Mike’s boyfriend has purchased tickets for a cruise. From Orlando. To the Bahamas. In May.
* **The Problem:** It requires Mike to fly from Newark to Orlando.
* **The Conflict:** It also requires Mike to not be working.
I have never understood the appeal of a cruise. It is essentially being under house arrest on a floating hotel with people who think “all-you-can-eat” is a challenge rather than a warning. And to do it via Orlando—a city that exists solely to prove that nature made a mistake with Florida—is a level of commitment to “vacationing” that I simply do not possess.
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### The Culinary Pivot
Last night, as I walked up Washington Street, I was planning to eat my twenty-first tuna fish sandwich. I find a certain dignity in repetition. However, I saw an advertisement for a quesadilla.
I am not a fan of technology, but I have a Qdoba card. The person behind the counter told me I had a “Buy One, Get One Free” offer that was expiring at midnight. This is how they get you. They create a false sense of urgency around melted cheese. I bought two. I am a victim of the system.
I ate one. I thought I would eat two, but I am no longer twenty. One is plenty.
### The Toaster Oven Incident
I brought the second quesadilla to work because Bill does not like Mexican food. I don’t know why Bill doesn’t like Mexican food, but I assume it’s for the same reason people don’t like reading: a fundamental lack of curiosity.
I decided to heat it in the toaster oven. To determine if the oven was hot, I did the one thing no person with a functioning brain should do: I touched it. I didn’t hover my hand near it. I didn’t look for the red glow. I pressed my fingertips against the heating element.
I spent the next several hours in a state of indignant pain. I took Advil. I waited. And then, I remembered a piece of folk medicine that is as disgusting as it is effective. At the urinal, I applied a bit of… self-generated liquid… to the burn. It worked instantly. It is a terrible commentary on the pharmaceutical industry that the most effective treatment for a burn is something you usually try to keep off your shoes.
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### The Ghost of Florida
All of this—the cold, the pain, the impending trip to Orlando—made me think of Kevin Wagner. I haven’t seen him in forty years. I broke his heart because I didn’t come out to him. I didn’t trust him.
People today talk about “coming out” as if it’s a parade. Back then, it was an audition for rejection. I was afraid he’d turn away, which is exactly what a friend *doesn’t* do, but fear is rarely interested in logic.
He married a woman named Ann and moved to Florida. That is usually where stories end. I look for him online, but he has no “presence.” He is not on the internet. In 2026, if you are not on the internet, you are either a genius or dead. I suspect he’s just a man who found a life that didn’t require an audience. I hope he’s well, but I’ll never know. Florida is where people go to be forgotten, and by all accounts, he’s doing a very good job of it.
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