An excellent opportunity to turn a single place into everything – towards a point in space that contains all other points.
Back when my great-grandmother was living in this space, it was just rectangular.
Now it is rectangular within rectangular.
So technically, if a person is located in the rectangular, they are still within the space where the smaller rectangular area is. The smaller rectangular area is the bathroom. The bigger rectangular space is everything.
*a rectangle is 2D, a rectangular something is 3D
By walking out.
By playing an MMORPG.
I’ve read that the brain doesn’t differentiate (I need to verify this. The brain’s relationship between imagined and perceived with the senses.)
But whether it’s polygons or mitochondria, it doesn’t matter. I am still in that rectangular frame.
Perhaps it has to do with my commitment to rectangles (make note – not the rectangular).
Perception through a screen – TV, games, streams.
Real life is an immersive program.
There are two more days left of May 2020. The quarantine, which had lasted in my approximation from March 2nd to May 4th in Croatia, is not a distant memory, but might as well be. People had stopped moving out of my way when I’m walking on the street, which is disappointing. I had kissed someone on the cheek today, which is wonderful. I’ve glanced around myself several times in the past two weeks, looking for a sign of some significant change, a satisfying shift away from how the world worked up to the COVID-19 crisis and found little. All in all, a wash.
Even before the daily fearmongering press conferences about how we should stay at home began, I was panicked about spending the rest of my life within a room that’s pretending to be an apartment in which I’ve been living for the past nine years. My great-grandmother originally lived here, back when it was a space divided by curtains. (Was the toilet somewhere else? Where did she shower?) I have only one memory of the room as it was then, when I went as a child with my family to visit my great-grandmother. I remember a shelf with a glass panel and something like a figurine on it. I remember it being in the middle of nothing, displaced from anything resembling walls, furniture and people. I barely remember my great-grandmother being there. The memory might not be referencing something that actually happened.
There are four more days left of August 2020. It’s the seventh day of self-isolation in Scotland for at least three people. The apartment is nice, but temporary and expensive, and the sleeping location is again a couch next to a desk with now two PCs, a nearby kitchen and an air of multifunctionality. In short, it is a living room serving as a bedroom for one, study for two and living room for three. It works because most items have their new place and there’s more than one person making an effort and noticing when a new cluster of mess begins to form. It’s not the cohabiting I had in mind when I said I was ready to stop living alone, but the system works. Will it be strange to go out again in a week’s time, into the benevolent Scottish rain and utilize skillsets that aren’t tied to PCs? I want a bicycle, a gym membership and to experience local queer and women’s spaces. Jobs go without saying, but there, I just said it. Just in case someone’s listening.
For better and worse, I am used to screens. I know how to use them to get what I want – which is usually a better understanding of anything. How to communicate intricate nuances of experiences with an interested party. Extract essences out of replayable content, after I’ve looped them many times over the course of some time. Write basic CSS and edit photographs close to each other. Watch a series and write simultaneously. Sometimes I prefer it, actually. Wake up early and skip the intended morning routine in order to click the power button. But so do many other people.
Although I’m rooting for the continuation of Antisezona’s offline programs –as well as offline content and living generally – I am now geographically displaced from its Croatian headquarters and unable to attend any of it. It hasn’t been long enough to feel sad about it, but I could wonder why I’ve decided to finish writing this instead of doing anything else. In that sense, I am rooting for its online programs too, temporarily disregarding the implications.
I won’t be waiting for a third experience of extreme staying in to finish this post, but I will say I’m glad that there are options for proceeding, no matter how the future plays out.