pandemic 2020 day 3

March 20. I scared myself thinking i may have symptoms of covid-19. i have a history of asthma and bronchitis and have compensated for shortness of breath by long-distance running. the past couple of mornings i have felt short of breath slightly, and i have been sleeping extra hours. hopefully i’m fine. i ordered more inhalers just in case, on advice of my brother. i still cannot find a thermometer in local stores to check my temperature. the part of me that gets scared amps up and then i come to place of acceptance to calm down. so i may get the virus like anyone else, and then i just need to get through it. i have faith that i can. i have an autoimmune condition but i have kept myself in very good health and i am only 47 years old. my plan is to continue running the river and doing yoga at home to stay in good cardiovascular health. as of midnight last night the city and region of Sacramento put into force a shelter-in-place law, which can be enforced. this follows the Bay Area and SF which did so monday. a colleague told me her friend who lives in SF actually got a ticket for venturing outdoors for something other than ‘essential services’. so this is martial law. Governor Gavin Newsom indicated in a letter to the President that he fears in 8 weeks time, half of the 45 million citizens of California will be infected with covid-19. This to me was an astounding statement! We have been told that the virus has stopped spreading in its epicenter, in Wuhan, China, no new cases are being reported. And they topped out at 80,000 infected. So i figured if they can stop it, why can’t we? I am curious to learn more. I cannot let myself be terrified. Only curious to learn and understand and take any precautions to safeguard myself and anyone i come in contact with. The distance between two people has been set somewhere between 6-10 feet. Essential services include mostly anything you gotta do to meet your basic needs. Healthcare appointments, exercise, walking pets, grocery shopping, post office, etc. No social gatherings for leisure activities. The mayor of New York City Bill De Blasio just had a press conference and railed on President Trump for not having yet mobilized the government and ‘the finest military in the world’ to battle. Hospitals are going to run out of the necessary equipment in two weeks. This is the first domestic leader to really come out with a strong statement against the current administration. NYC has clearly become the new epicenter of covid-19 domestically, and it has millions of people crowded into several square miles. So the potential cost of life is extremely high.

excavating manhattan

excavating manhattan in the year 2030

All the civilizations and past lives are buried beneath us because they did not hire enough people to keep sweeping. Had they hired enough sweepers, we would have all the treasures of the past among us. We have the street sweepers now, machines, but they go about sweeping the roads which have paved over the past. Shouldn’t we all be digging down into our gardens, down into the deep to unearth all the treasures? We all know how. One of the first things they gave us was a bucket and a shovel and a sandbox and naturally we began digging. In two hundred years all our treasures will be buried with us, and the future will be walking on our graves! Sure, some of the treasures will be exhumed and put on display. But what about your heirlooms? What about your creations? Like rings of a tree, the superficial layers of the earth if taken out by cross-section will tell of our lives and our tragedies. In New York City, in the year 2310, someone will excavate Manhattan and find that one thin ring of chalkdust from nine eleven and put the pieces together again so nothing will be lost on the timeline. On either side of that ring will be the slick almost watery syrup of the life and times of the most powerful nation on earth. I’m sure my grandmother’s ballet slippers will be in there. And not far from that, ashes from my grandfather’s cuban cigar. There will be reams of paper mulch on one side, and the other will be tested for trace amounts of silicon and plastic. The movement from the daily morning predawn paper delivery boy to the bloggers and vloggers logging onto their apples. The countryside will have imperceptible layers of poisons in the corn, and fluoride and pharmaceuticals will test positive all over the cities for sure. They will have to really work to determine why we brushed our teeth so rigorously back then. I mean now.

american dream concession stand

The business was familiar to us all, and could not have polled much worse in a popularity contest. Kinda like one of those Amazon  personal online shops, where some thief set up an account and made their first sale but refused to deliver. Rating goes substrata. They may think they will, but they won’t ever sell anything again, on Amazon.  The popularity polling chalked up to this: statistically, one person out of twenty, was talking to the porcelain, per diem.

Lemonade-stand politics, on the main thoroughfare. Selling lemons with sugar, and splenda to spare. Just the usual american dream concession stand. Lining of pockets. Confusing law with order. Wearing mops on their heads during nuclear-family civil-war revival fetish skirmishes. Focused on precedents rather than innovative action, when weight of their argument failed to summon any traction.

Who knows exactly what was the mainstay of their business? Maybe talk soup. Whatever carried over long weekends, on the backs of TGI Fridays and long island iced teas. They resorted to shady tactics, hung over a rail.  Weekdays, if necessary, they were open for business. Conducted by whomever wasn’t drying out, or in jail. Daydreams of badminton, croqueting through their minds. Only Joan Didion might write a piece, if paid well, to drum up business for these assholes. But she would tell the truth. Everyone loves a scandal.

mousey

‘mouse’ by k

Who knows how they were still afloat? Hardly IPO material. I guess they had a fan following, from facebook promotion. SEO dabbling, over suntan lotion. Complaints from the business bureau? disregarded completely. They continued to package their spam sandwiches, in platistic wrap. It used to be Saran Wrap, but like pharmaceuticals, the label was too costly. It used to be cellophane. Wow. It wouldn’t take the CFO they could not afford, to tell them to shelve the luxury ticket. Go back to backyards, and orchestras of crickets.

You know your business is failing when you’re trying to finagle backroom deals with the US Postal Service to work out a cheaper shipping plan. UPS and FEDEX wouldn’t even have a conversation. That’s like Lance Armstrong having a conversation with the Tour De France. Or OJ Simpson having a conversation with the NFL. Or Mike Milken having a conversation with the NYSE.

Their public relations campaigns were spectacular. Like Anthony Weiner’s sextexting vernacular. They could run for cover in a second, but they would never disappear.  The headlines were too lucrative. Their half-baked proposals awash on the carpet. They could spin their bad press like a champ. They were attempting to turn triangles, into squares.  Bogies, into eagles. Who knows what was par for the course anymore? They convinced themselves of their own relevance. Their substandard practice had fallen below basements, and washed far downshore the glacier. Their MTV cribs became archaelogical digs.

The slave labor pool of interns fueled their quiet ascension. Their fans were fanatic, unsubsidized, wallowing. The swallows in the trees looked down, swallowing. Witness to an outlying mob-like destructo-con. Another promotion party with no compass at all. Rushing in on August with stale promotions for fall. Dropping what would never pass for science, to the kids in the halls.

Another american dream concession stand. Barely legal and belly up, with copyright infringement parade-style tactics. They had no protection from themselves. Not even prophylactics.