May 6, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

May 6, 2020 (In The Year of the Trump Virus)

Strange day today, due to the passing of a family friend and poet Michael McClure, and of course, being a Kraftwerk fan, I'm off my mark due to the death of Florian Schneider. Death is never a comma; it always the period at the end of a sentence.

I don't know if it's a matter of luck, or I thrive on bad times, but since the lockdown due to the Trump Virus, I have been working steadily.  I now have three writing jobs, and all of them are fascinating.   I can't go into it here, because I feel it's bad luck to write about a future project or assignment.  The dire situation was a month ago, our bank account had nothing but trapped moths, and now there is some hope. I'm grateful for that, no kidding.

When I do go out it is to pick up my mom's laundry, which we do on a weekly basis.  Young people are walking around with no masks, and one can feel the tension of being contained for the past month and a half.  I'm not sure what the psychology is, with people who refuse to wear masks when they are out running or walking on the street or park. On the surface, it seems to be a freedom of doing what one wants to issue, but I think the thinking is more of distrust of the information that they are getting, and it doesn't help when President Virus gives conflicting news, which is tinged with his apparent madness.  Also, a lot of people are selfish.

Late last night, I read a post on a Facebook page of a "friend," saying that it is natural for the old to get sick and die, and therefore as a healthy person, why should he suffer for it.  All he wants to do is work, be with people, and don't see the reason why he needs to protect older citizens.  I posted a comment saying, "that's a tad harsh, no?"  When I went back on the site to read if there was a comment made on my post remark, the entire post was gone.  So, there is the sensitivity of sorts being played out, but in truth, there are people out there who don't care what happens to others, and therefore they feel that they shouldn't be restricted in living their own lives. There is a "Me" and "Us" view of the world. America lacks the collective need or the urgency or the will to sacrifice to do things together for the common good or the health of others.

For me, I have a zeal to stay home.  Every day is a new adventure, and I embrace each day as if it was my last.  My mood changes as if one change their bedsheets, but nevertheless, I'm finding myself optimistic about my life. Still, I'm feeling that American society is reflecting on their dark and dangerous soul.  It's horrifying out there, and if one feels fear, I think that is a natural acceptance. Anxiety, sleepless nights, boredom, and fear are the characteristics of living in America. Perhaps in your world as well? - Tosh Berman