The National Guard was just deployed to New York, California, and Washington, the states most heavily affected by Coronavirus. Healthcare workers are being told to reuse masks. There’s speculation that NYC hotels will be turned into pop-up hospitals. The number of people infected and dying are ticking up, a pick-your-number illness.
It’s raining here in Brooklyn, today. My partner bought me two vines for our room because they want to ensure that we have enough life in our room during this time. I am, at all times, afraid for their deaths.
The dog is following me around in haste. She must be afraid that I will leave, that quarantine is over, that I will go back to regular life and she will be forced to sit in wait, staring at the door for my return. She is anxious, cognizant of the angst in humanity around her. Or she has to shit. I can’t make out the difference anymore.
I swear, I feel so sane, that I’m contemplating how insane I must truly be to feel any shred of sanity right now. Did I mention the rain already?
I wonder how PornHub is fairing. I imagine someone, at least once, has said, “Wow. That kink’s been near-dead for years. These poor people.”
What will happen when this really hits us. When will we come to terms with the fact that this might be worse than ’08. We’re #37 in the world for healthcare. Of course, then you’re forced to contemplate the horror that healthcare can be ranked, like shows and the popularity of cat videos on Youtube. I’m sorry. I know. I’m being so pessimistic. It’s the sanity, I think. It helps me think clearly. What I mean to say is, my favorite coffee shop may not make it, and I just never really thanked my barista for smiling that way all those months.
I think I love my partner more. The way we haven’t killed each other is exquisite.
I will eat today, I swear. To tack onto the four other times I have eaten already. I should be rationing, really, but then I get overwhelmed by the idea of rationing in general, and so I eat in excess. I had forgotten how good chips are.
How many of us are stuck inside alone, staring at anything but the walls? They will begin to talk. Listen. Talk back. There is introspection in isolation. Beings are wrought with overstimulation. The Universe is finally giving you permission to grieve.
I have started and restarted, The Mirror, over and over again. I am told I will learn something, but I’m not sure I’m ready.
/If you have a job still, if you are healthy, if you have your family, please remind yourself once a day, at least, how you radiate in privilege. Then ask how you can help./
A sane person is no longer one who has achieved sanity, a sense of nirvana, levelheadedness. Rather, a sane person is one who has learned it is best to not question the world around them, that their main concern is to put one foot in front of the other, to operate within the confines of a system they are told not to question. In other words, they void their minds of complex thought. These people do not view themselves as slaves to any system; rather, they find themselves good citizens.
What did they do with the insane back in the times when people still worshipped trees?
I know I love my partner more.
I made the bed. I watered the vines. I fed the dog. Signs of life. Perhaps the rain will cause a flood.