March 29, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)
My gardener came over to the house, and I totally forgot yesterday was the last Saturday of the month. It makes sense that he’s working because he doesn’t have close contact with people in his line of work. I went out to the yard and put his check under a rock and pointed that to him.
My mother called me and told me that Instacart would go on strike on Monday, and she has food ordered and to be delivered on Wednesday. Not sure if the strike will affect her or not. If things are not clear, or they are on strike tomorrow, then she will more likely cancel the order. I will probably have to go shopping for her. This means Lun*na will buy for our food, and I will shop for my mom. My Uncle’s partner is taking care of my Uncle, so he’s been transporting food to their house. They are not Internet savvy, so they don’t know how to use Instacart. The irony was about a month ago or so, I put the Instacart app on my Uncle’s phone, but didn’t set it up for him. Then the next day was the shutdown, and here we are.
In the past, such as last night, there were occasional groupings of young people on the next door empty lot. Mostly drinking and chatting away. It seems that they have no concern about getting sick. When you are young, and if you are not ill, that world of sickness doesn’t mean much in their lives. Until, of course, they get the virus. It must be odd to be a teenager now. Well, it’s always strange to be a teen. Still, I think to be of a certain age, and you have been exposed to President Virus as well as the virus itself, and having your social world contained, is something that must be ‘what the fucking hell?”
If you read my previous post, you know that I had a stressful few days, but now, we are all OK. But who knows about tomorrow. Today, Kimley and I did our first podcast of Book Musik, since the lockdown. Both of us had to deal with issues involving the isolation, and we missed our deadline for the current show. Kimley figured out how to do our show while she’s in her apartment, and I’m here in the house. It seemed to work great, but I do miss doing the show with her three feet away from me on our round table in the tiny dining room by the side of the kitchen. The book we focused on is Ian Penman’s “It Gets Me Home, This Curving Track.” It’s an excellent book by a wonderful writer who digs deep into his subject matter, which is James Brown, Prince, Elvis, and Mod Culture, among other things. That show will be up on April 1.
I feel anxiety about everything. Politics is a real shit-hole, and even though I’m not a firm supporter of Biden, I’m concerned about his campaign. He has a lot of stuff against him due to the Trump Virus, but also I feel he doesn’t have a firm message. I think it’s time for him and Sanders to get together and work for each other’s presence in the election year, which is now. Biden needs Sanders, and I think he and Bernie should have a serious chat among themselves, and continue forward. As for me, I’m going to do face-time chat with some friends, and then listen to my box of 45 rpm singles. The isolation life works for me. My fear is getting the virus, not for my health, but the fear of spreading it to my family and money issues galore. 2020 is a lot of fun.
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