from The Jab Syndrome 1
After I got my second jab I felt funny. I felt stiff at the joints and my fingertips had needles and pins for about a day but that’s not what I mean by funny. Those things subsided but there was something else that stayed with me. A constant urge to stab. At first it materialized with me sticking the tip of my pen into the side of a book, any book, books that were collecting dust on a shelf as I sat on the toilet or paced about. After a week or so I started poking the pen clear through the pages. I was constantly jabbing catalogs and other junk that came in the mail. There was something satisfying about that moment of penetration. It felt natural on an archetypal level. Soon every piece of paper I owned had a hole in it. At some moment in time I moved on to the covers but I couldn’t get the pen to properly rip through so I found a sharp letter opener with a magnifying lens on it in a drawer I hadn’t opened in ages. I then started jabbing surfaces, unconsciously, out of habit, as I was watching the computer or drinking a cup of coffee. Jab jab jab with my letter opener until my table had notch marks in it as did the wall next to my swivel chair. I found my urge to stab could also be satisfied by making jabbing remarks. I don’t go out much so I resorted to the endless supply of human cells on social media. I especially enjoyed lashing out at anyone who wasn’t jabbed yet. It was as if I needed to duplicate like a virus in an endless vortex of fractals so it offended me when I saw that there was a perfectly good host out there not yet jabbed. Trust me. It all made sense at the time. I stalked Fox News and stabbed everyone with Rachel Maddow’s biting words. One time unbeknownst to me I put a Sabatier in the pouch of my hoodie and I was walking to the Currency Exchange and I was angry at what some stupid anti-vaxxer said about Israel when some old man came walking too close to me. I had an overwhelming urge to stab him in the crook of his neck. But I didn’t. That’s how I know I’m okay. I know the old man doesn’t deserve it. No. The person who deserves it is that fucking bitch at the bank who wouldn’t cash my check.