The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 57

DAY 57: Who's dying?

They're dying

or we're dying?

We are

you are us, we are you

old and sick -- or not,

160 doctors of medicine

in Italy up to today --

say their names out loud* --

we die with you

alone and afraid

we mourn with your families

we can't breathe

in the 'us' and 'them' of some

perverted religion: we

righteous, you damned,

that became international politics

blue / red -- all blood -- vein / artery

all the same

no 'them', no 'other', all us

we, We the people, WE. THE. PEOPLE.

same blood coming and going, same

breath, same death,

for all, rich and poor, the

1% die 1% of the time, we

99, we're losing ourselves

fast, so fast we can't fill out the forms --

remember any one loved one gone

that gut punch, head spin --

how can we expect ourselves

to repeat that shock for

5, 5000, 50000?

only by being part of the whole

organism, that's losing precious cells,

can we get it all, as we dying

we, all around the world

and it hurts.

*see list in comments

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 56

DAY 56: I hear my neighbor slam

his door, his daughter wife and

dog, that front door slams all

day long -- where are they going
all the time? --

during a total lockdown? --

the regulations -- for our own

good -- say out once a day, 100

meters away, dog shit: check -- once

a week groceries/pharmacy -- we're

all taking this expensive tablet

to boost our immune systems and
making cakes to ease the pain -- and

that's it, that's all, #iorestoacasa -- so 

the slammers are cheating clearly -- they're 

going out to see their friends, 

relatives, cheat when the cops

turn their backs -- that's so Italian -- 

actually it's not, all us other

Italians are hunkered down

admirably, turtles closed in shells, 
obeying better than anyone -- way better 
than Americans with their silly

jogging on the beach -- the Brits,

the Swedes, what a pity! vilken skam.

So anyway my question is,

if I can remember it: Are

people who obey the rules

better people? Think peons
think automatons, fanatics

authoritarians, think sheep

fascists, zealots, think racists,

bigots, sexists -- when the powerful 
love rules -- for others to obey -- 
should we rebel with fists raised?

Question Authority? Stick it to the
Man? Down with Big Brother? 
Fight Imperial Stormtroopers?

or queue quietly, passively

accepting our roles as lookouts
on the castle wall signalling the
approach of the infected enemy

thusly avoiding the Black Plague --

is a virus a political absolute?
does a pandemic require acquiescence?
is cause and effect a measure of
our belief in the scientific method
and our rebuke of God creator?

-- if only we were better

people.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 55

DAY 55: If I'm writing

about this

I must have it all

figured out

I must be reacting

to something

I understand, poets

are wise, no?

No! I have no clue

what I'm going through

I have no idea

what's happening inside

or out, I hear voices

in languages, words

I know singly

but together they

form the music

of overwhelming chaos,

the song of way way

too much to process

to cope, to be home with

I retreat into a

locked closet but

even there I know

nothing, I see hear

speak nothing
I am foolish

I retreat into

so-called mindfulness,

to no avail

comprehend the cosmos

sorry, can't, 

I'm only human

perhaps my descendants

can star trek out

and capture it all

embrace in our one

trillion brain-cells, one

zillion concepts.

but I'm too lost, sad

afraid, angry and overwhelmed

-- everyone's talking about

the end -- not of the virus

but of our response -- that

seems insane, but what

do I know?

nothing.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 54

DAY 54: Fun is dead, lots are dead

men my age are dead, people who

look like me, business is dead. --

they keep telling us -- and relations

are dead, COVIDivorce and Corona-

murder, but numbers don't lie --

yes, they do -- too many people

dead, and fun is dead.

Will we ever have fun again?

cinema, food courts, amusement

parks, beaches, mountains

concerts, plays, dance, art --

whatever you used to do for fun

-- dead. sit at home and cry,

sit at home and whine: I wanna

go out and have some

fun -- the sage says find your

fun within -- screw the sage,

I want my fun! I want to drive

somewhere, singing in the back

seat of the station wagon with my

brothers trying to see a white horse

in a pasture on my side on the

way up to Yosemite Valley, where

we can rent bikes and every

night there's a campfire

program at Curry Village

and -- I'm old -- then the 

Fire Fall -- everybody on the

count of three -- Let the

FIRE FALL !!!

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 53

DAY 53: Let's just say that you

no, let's say I infected someone

else, I had mild-to-no symptoms

but I was positive for COVID-19, and

unknowingly went out, touched,

inhaled and exhaled, and someone

got the crud from me, I have proof (they 
don't) no doubt -- who would I feel?

would I be wracked with guilt, would

I jump off the balcony like so many

others -- oh wait, nobody's jumped

yet, I could go first -- wait, maybe I

wouldn't feel guilty at all, it's not like

murder in the first degree -- and penance?

can I make it up to the families of

all those whose deaths I caused?

I could go to each survivor and

beg forgiveness -- would I? how

could I make good? here's some

money, I'm really sorry -- all acts

and words useless -- see where

I'm going with this? -- the virus has killed

people of all kinds everywhere, yet

it has also killed guilt and penance --

nothing, nothing, what is left?

no mourning, no one to blame, no

blame, no payment, no consequ-

ences, it's just too 
much, too strong,

everything is 
wiped away,

tsunami-style.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 52

DAY 52: I saw those holy fools beg to

die, to rise with the righteous, get Raptured out,
to risk to kill family for snake-handling, pork rinds and cola

rape hate and white power and penis-insufficiency

big-gun complex, because no person with a good

brain ...

-- you can touch this white-hot iron only after it cools down,

now it will burn your hand right off, disfigure you for life, perhaps

end your life ...

-- no, I want to grab it now! it's my God-given right!

-- we're doing your curve reduction surgery, ma'am, with 
local anesthetic so we can chat and monitor your 

emotional response ...

-- no, stop the operation, NOW! mid-way thru, flesh open, bleeding 
out, monitor beeps, I can't take it anymore, I want to be

released ...

-- we all love Jesus and one another so very much, we love the letting go, we

love you to make you one of us, way more than our rival denominations (cults) and we 

are reborn through our faith in Christ Lord of All Resurrected Lambs, praise ye,

that we cannot be killed, we've got protection, we rock and bang on the church doors, 
we must flood in :: Good Friday, Black Friday, Thank God It's Friday (happy hour) ::

to embrace our fellow insiders and receive

sanctified corona healing ...

-- no, you're dead or dying or contagious

you just killed your Xian brother and sisters,

hashtag

fool.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 51

DAY 51: After Mother died, after Dad

I had my moments, I was sad, I

felt weak, and confused, I was

challenged by the blues, but then

I rose as one must, to the

occasion, to once more trust,

in tomorrow, to be lived, even in

sorrow, we begin again.

yet what I see now is not the

strength, that is hidden, at home

I think, what I see, on TV, in the

squares, is a world of cry-babies,

out there.

we gotta get outa here, we

can't take any more of this, we need

fast food again, even if we get

sick, even if we make someone else

sick, even if our own families die,

splayed on the floor at the In an' Out,

we need a haircut, we need to get

high, we want to pile into the car and

go for a drive, down to the foodbank

wait for hours, for a box of groceries,

and a whiskey sour, in the homeland.

so we can sit by the barbecue

in the back yard with our buddies
raise a brew

getting lazy,

in this world

of Cry-Babies.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 50

DAY 50: Behind Doctor T.J. Eckleburg's giant

eyes, behind the flying trapezoid head

of Zardoz, behind the swollen green Martian

head of the Wizard of Oz -- is the master:

GOD GOLD, Oscar, the holy greed, the

lust stronger than pleasure, better

than copulation, the God that estab-

lished and smashed every civili-
zation of Earth: Inca, Maya and United

States of Americay.

Alexander the Great with his pockets

so full he couldn't swim across the

golden river, drowning in liquid aurum

skin asphyxiation like The Goldfinger Girl

clogged pores, but, oh, oh, what a shag!

The Doctor Eye, The Zardoz Eye, The

Oz Eye -- watching you, watching you

watching you, build your pile, are you

getting your due? your dose of golden

medicine, or are you a loser, a failure,

bankrupt? If you must say it, go on:

Health is more important than Wealth.

You can hear the GOLD GODs laugh,

laugh all the way to the bank.

In my sunburst house I have 
solid gold furniture dripping from

my gold ceiling onto my gold floor, my 

gold toilet, my gold hair, I stand for a photo 

before my golden life golden wife: Scrooge 

McDuck never enough. That's my 24-carat

plight.

So, now you know. It's good to have

priorities -- my health, I can buy, yours,

who cares? You can die (just don't be messy)

and I won't feel a thing -- every human life

is equally precious. Where'd you hear

that, Sunday School? LOL!

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 49

DAY 49: Okay, I'll start. Nobody else

seems to be onboard. I'll go first. For

the 20,000 Italians, the 40,000 Americans

150,000 Humans, all numbers underestimated

by a factor of 3-10 -- for all the brave

souls dead of the virus in only a

couple months, I GRIEVE, I

MOURN, I CRY -- I hereby

declare a year of official mourning

during which each survivor

will focus each day on mourning

the dead one by one, one name

one essence, one personality at a

time -- most religions encourage

the living to honor the dead

in ritual and rhyme for safe

passage to whatever's next -- we

owe them that, we owe something to

those who were disposed of, those who 

vanished -- we owe ourselves the healing

power of grief -- GOOD GRIEF

said the sage Charles Brown,

if we don't mourn, if we talk

about beaches and burgers

numbers and graphs, we

will give ourselves a second

virus, COVID-20, the hungry bug 

that eats into our hearts until

there's nothing left -- not to

grieve for selfishness, for 

our own sake, or for them

the missing, for cosmic balance

for whatever reason, no reason.

No. Grieve because we must.

We must.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 48

DAY 48: So, let me see, let me see

if I get it, get it -- if people die

that's okay, that's natural, virus =

people die (deal with it), the problem,

the real problem is when they all die

at the same time, bad timing is the

problem -- these poor COVIDIANS clog

up the hospital assembly line --

that's no good -- if they could please

line up like outside supermarkets

in an orderly fashion, no cuts

waiting patiently their turn, coughing

their burning lungs out, drowning in their 
own spit, infecting everyone within half

a mile -- then they could enter the

ICUs slowly enough to be cared for properly --

some out the front door (applause)

some out the back (b'bye)

and the administrators and politicians

all happy happy -- hey, people die all 

the time, hey, God's will, hey, don't expect

miracles, we only do partials --

but we're trying, so back off!

keep the line/queue straight, waiting room's
over there, take a number -- we cannot/will not 

be overwhelmed, you? over-

whelmed yet? we shall all be overwhelmed

life's a beach, a two-foot wave is 

fun, a twenty-footer is a killer -- so, let 'em 

die but in an orderly fashion, not

too fast, not all at once --

I do not get this.

I do not agree.

I do not.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 47

DAY 47: The Death of Decency --

what about being good, kind, how

many points does it count

-- I don't know (we never really

know) but a Jane Goodall, a

Jimmy Carter, a Fred Rogers, a

Michelle -- what happened?

Where are the ones who don't

advertise themselves, who don't

wait until the cameras are

rolling, don't let their greed

show, their malice, their

vanity -- where are the revolutionary

resolutary donations from billionaires

of their entire fortunes, anon-

ymously, now, do it now -- or are 
Bloomberg and Steyer still hiding 
in a basement playing penny-ante 
with no one keeping score?

We need help we're not getting.
HELP US, WE'RE DYING HERE --

the rest of the world used to 

have confidence that the US (us)

would be there in a crisis (we

got your backs, LOL) now the

betrayals of only 3 years

are so bad that other countries turn

away, don't even think of helping the USA

now that we're on our knees --

rolling in our own filth, screaming nonsense,

foaming mouths, bloody eyes popping out --

since we don't even help ourselves

or rather, we've always helped ourselves
gorged ourselves at the banquet without 
the decency to share the table. Just desserts.

I answered my own question.