COVID-19, part 57

So that’s the funny part about all of it. You wait so long sometimes for the boot to drop that you begin to think it never will. You come to think all the dire warnings were superstition. Thing is, you never know which superstitions have any foundation in any historical precedent until they go ahead and happen again and then you realize that it’s most likely something that’s going to keep happening. That’s COVID-19 in a nutshell. We knew about the 1918 Spanish flu but we’ve gotten all puffed up about our dominion over the natural world since then. We pick and choose which science and historical fact we want to believe in generally depending on what’s convenient at the time. And when we think of plagues it’s always in the context of “those other people over there.”

Oops.

Let’s just go back to Camus again, like right at the beginning of this giant fiasco:

“In this respect, our townsfolk were like everybody else, wrapped up in themselves; in other words, they were humanists: they disbelieved in pestilences. A pestilence isn’t a thing made to man’s measure; therefore we tell ourselves that pestilence is a mere bogy of the mind, a bad dream that will pass away. But it doesn’t always pass away and, from one bad dream to another, it is men who pass away, and the humanists first of all, because they have taken no precautions.”
― Albert Camus, The Plague

Not that most of us could be described as humanists. We do believe in ourselves maybe a lot more than we should though.

That’s where things sit with me a couple months into this. It’s not something I can even wrap my head around but the families of over 80,000 dead Americans can. A lot more to come too. It’s surreal for me. I can’t even think about it too much or it wrecks my head. It’s all more a question of acceptance and waking up every day and doing whatever needs to be done. It’s boring as fuck! I’m alive though so that’s something.

I’m actually doing pretty well. It’s given me an awful lot of time to draw in tight and focus. Taking care of health things never hurts. We can include mental health in that. Problem is now all my energy is coming back and I feel like a buck elk in rutting season. I’m sniffing the air and ripping the bark off trees and hoofing at the ground. What was that old Meatloaf song from the 70s? Oh. All Revved Up With No Place To Go. Silly old fucker you are, MacGregor.

Silly old fucker.

There are definitely moments of melancholy too but there’s an awful lot of comfort in the words of The Crocodiles – that thing you’re feeling right now, kid? This too shall pass.

And it does.

My friend got notice today that her company will be working from home until at least September. My company has to be talking about it but they’re not sharing their thoughts. It’s hard to even imagine getting on the train to Midtown now. The very thought seems strange, though not nearly as strange as spending the next few months within a block of where Im sitting right at this moment. There are plans… plans I’ve made for the end of the summer so I’m sorting out my health and my passport. The former is pretty much hunky-dory. The second is easy enough. It’s curious that it’s easier to think about getting on a plane than it is getting on the subway. Kind of backwards but whatever.

Will other countries even have me?

Time shall tell.

And I need to skip the country for a bit. It would be preferable to go to a place that I don’t understand the language at all. That’s the great escape really, when you are free to tune shit out because you don’t comprehend anyway.

Okay, this is just a ramble. Needed to get it out though. Get something out.

COVID-19 has still got it’s own damn plans. That’s the real update.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s