Sick World

It’s like a post-apocalyptic movie. A usually bustling city is eerily vacant. Essential supplies have come to include liquor, guns, and toilet paper. Who isn’t secretly embarrassed? Around midnight I take a puzzle apart just for the hell of it. The next morning my department holds a Zoom session on how to prevent cheating in online classes. Other professors mention they also have been having strange dreams. In mine, I’m eating Crown Fried Chicken on a bench while eyeballs the size of boulders roll across the grass and dirt, and a woman I recognize from TV weeps into her hands.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie Good is the author of What It Is and How to Use It (2019) from Grey Book Press, among other poetry collections.

A Rational Rebuttal To The Philosophy Of Futility

Eric got up from his table, leaving his philosophy books sprawled across the surface. Cramming for the test at this juncture was a futile gesture. He was certain Paul Nystrom would agree, but it wouldn't help him ace this test.

He'd heard of one student from several years back who aced his finals with a single sentence. "What's the point?" He'd gotten the only A in his class.

He also knew of at least two students who tried the same trick last year, and they'd both failed.

Philosophy professors love all ideas, except the one that questions their own validity.

Self Help

Whenever he did curls on the bench, he had to resist the urge to look at himself in the mirror. He was always disappointed.

Everything he tried, varying his routine, increasing his dosages, upping his protein intake, failed to have the desired results. He'd even cut back his work hours because being here was more important.

Barbara didn't understand. His parents didn't understand. His professors definitely didn't understand.

Every second of his existence was a battle against his oxidizing cells as they gradually lost the ability to replicate.

The gym was not an addiction. It was a fight against oblivion.