The world needs many things, but blog posts, think pieces, and rants are not among them. Nevertheless, my capacity to help is limited, and I’ve already supported some local businesses by buying books and booze, and there are only so many Facebook lists a guy can make/read/stomach. Besides, Facebook is bringing out the worst in me lately.
So yeah, here are some thoughts composed while social distancing, a term that will grow more annoying as its need increases.
Born for this
Despite liking my friends and family, I’m truly a homebody at heart. I’ve found sheltering-in-place surprisingly easy to the extent that, while not unsympathetic, I’m not sure why people are so annoyed that they have to stay indoors to avoid getting or spreading a potentially deadly virus. My apartment is not huge—I occupy a two-bedroom unit—and compared to the houses of many friends and relatives, well, it seems weird that they can’t find some sort of solace in the lives they’ve built.
Okay, let me walk that back a bit.
I understand that a lot of people enjoy being outdoors; they love their families and neighbors and like socializing with them, having coffee, sharing drinks, hosting dinner parties, inviting the parents of their kids’ friends over so that the tots can run around and cause havoc while the moms sip chardonnay and the men do whatever men do in the garage. Still, I have to say that—while it sucks that our lives have been so upended—all most of us are being asked to do is stay inside and not see people other than the ones we live with.
I’ve said it before, but I’ll write it again: I can sum up humanity in five words: bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.
Yeah, it’s not easy to see the things we’ve taken for granted (freedom to go where we like, a functioning economy, ‘round the clock conveniences) and the institutions we’ve relied on (a semi-functioning government, a working health care system) go to hell. I know this. But, if anything, what we should be pissed about isn’t that we have to stay away from people and make do with what’s inside our walls; we should be outraged by how precarious our way of life has always been.
This is a time for reflection. The world will likely not be the same after this. I don’t know that it should be. My more radical friends—the ones who put their chips on communist ideas and have long talked about the inevitable collapse of capitalism—are, of course, sounding the horn and inviting the rest of us into their tent. And they have valid points, though I’ve long been skeptical of the either/or framework that suggests that the cure for the obvious ills, faults, and crimes of a capitalist system is a communist one. I’m more the democratic socialist type that thinks that capitalism might be reformed by socialist elements. Anyone who puts all of their faith in a political or economic ideology is, at best, well meaning but unrealistically optimistic, or, at worst, delusional. I know, I know—I’m being defeatist and borderline nihilistic here, but I just can’t get onboard with pure capitalism or communism or one true religion or anything so absolute.
But I will agree that laissez-faire capitalism, as we have long practiced it, is clearly not working. So while we’ve got so much time on our hands, maybe we should dream of a better world, one where we actually value (and adequately compensate) the workers who are currently saving our asses, the ones in shops that need to remain open, the ones in hospitals that are dangerously starved of protective gear, the ones who drive trucks and grapple with heart disease, sleep deprivation, and isolation (we’re getting a taste of their lives now, aren’t we?). Maybe this is the time for us to see how fucking privileged we are. Only in a society as myopic as ours do we take to Facebook to vent about having to stay inside to do our part in what is an epic battle that will, by its end (assuming it ends) claim a lot of lives. Maybe not yours, maybe not mine. Because we have the ability to numb ourselves with Netflix and social media while so much of the rest of the world is knee deep in coronavirus.
Which is not to say that we aren’t. Someone you know is either infected (knowingly or not) or unemployed because of this. If that’s you, you’re exempt from this rant. If that’s not you, please suck it up and do the very least you can do: stay the fuck home and avoid contact with humans. Dogs are better company, anyway.
Routine
Even those of us given to staying in have to stave off cabin fever. To stay sane, I’m adhering to a routine not unlike the one I’d developed as a working-outside-the-home man. I try to wake at a respectable hour. I shower. I shave when the scruff gets unseemly. I work out at home. I dress as if I’m going into the office. I’m teaching via Zoom, after all—can’t have the students see me in a faded black concert T-shirt. I walk the dog. I make breakfast (either something with egg or oatmeal). I have my morning black cuppa Scottish breakfast, my midmorning Earl Grey, my afternoon English rose, and my evening hibiscus tea. I busy myself with PowerPoint slideshows and grading essays. If there’s time, I edit the clusterfuck of a manuscript I spent the last seven months writing. I cook dinner for the Mrs. and me. I like the routine of cooking, the basic steps, even the washing of dishes. I treat myself to a square or two of dark chocolate and I limit my whiskey to three nights a week. (There’s a Guinness with most dinners, though.) I snuggle with the wife and we watch something. Often we finish the night with an episode of Parks and Recreation, because that delightful show washes off the horror of this pandemic just long enough for us to fall asleep.
The above paragraph betrays a lot of privilege. I’m in a good place. I have a spouse. I love her very much. I can’t imagine being quarantined with someone I used to love and have grown to dislike. I can’t imagine being isolated with an abusive partner. We have no kids. I can’t imagine being quarantined with children that need to be entertained, educated, fed, and cleaned. My dog is pretty happy with this situation. We’re home all the time—his dream!—and he never fusses when it comes to meal time. I don’t need to teach him anything.
I have a job. I’m able to perform my duties remotely. It’s not ideal, but it works.
I have enough money to be able to afford groceries. I’ve not felt the need to purchase things impulsively. Hell, this pandemic is saving me cash!
I’m in a place where I can be content in my home because I have a lot of privilege. Not bragging or celebrating. Just acknowledging. That’s not everybody’s story. Suddenly I’m more sympathetic to those complaining.
Movies watched since mid-March:
The Dead Don’t Die
Her
The Descent
Bloodsport
The Aviator
Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (half of it)
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
Synecdoche, NY
Inception (half—I hate that film but the wife was watching it)
The Curse of La Llorona
After Truth
Rocky III
Road House
Uncut Gems
Happy-Go-Lucky
Cool Hand Luke (second half when I caught it on cable)
Monty Python’s Meaning of Life
The Ten Commandments (most of it—fell asleep—it’s fucking long.)
Mr. Fix-it
I just Googled how to fix a dimmer switch that’s gone bad. Looks easy. I have the right tools. Jeesh, I might’ve once called a repairman to do this. Such a pampered prick.
Of course, now I see things in need of repair and wonder, How hard can it be? Anyone who knows me knows that I am not at all a handyman. There is real danger in me holding a tool. Due to slight boredom, the apartment may soon be uninhabitable.
Speaking of boredom
Only boring people get bored. Amuse yourself. Use your imagination. Read a book, for fuck’s sake. C’mon, now.
First wold pandemic
Thinking now of the many, many people posting to social media about how they now have to educate their own children, subsist off groceries that, while dangerous to obtain, they have hours in their days to gather, and amuse themselves in a world full of distraction. . . my before-mentioned sympathy is fading. But I have to admit some things are a real pain the ass. Highest among them are the just now mentioned getting of groceries.
Today I went to the supermarket to play the stay-the-fuck-away-from-me game with my fellow shoppers. Sadly, not all of them wanted to play, and a good many coughed in my direction and ignored the recommendation that we stay six feet apart. Mask obscuring half my face, gloves on, I snatched as many foodstuffs as I could in the small window of time I’d allotted myself, then hightailed it home. Entering the home requires stripping off many layers, leaving them outside the apartment along with the non-perishables, then sanitizing a table top to place the groceries I deem immediately important, all of which get wiped down with disinfectant. The produce gets washed—even the bananas and avocados—in the sink, which is then disinfected. Before and after this ritual, I wash my hands to the point of near blistering.
Deciding that it made more sense to chop an onion than wash it, I removed the outer two layers and transformed the round shape to a pile of mismatched bits. That took some time and produced some tears. Felt good to cry.
Then I washed my hands again and wiped down the tabletops, sink, oven, light switches, faucet handles, doorknobs, remote controls, cell phone, keys, and my glasses with disinfectant. Then I had a cup of tea and, exhausted, a much-earned nap.
That the getting of food and integrating it safely within my home requires such effort is, sure, a bummer. But again, this is a first world problem. I mean, I’ve not missed a meal in the last month. I’ve likely gained weight. Could be a helluva lot worse. I see the absurd humor in my situation, but it helps to do all of this while listening to an audio book about life under threat of random bombings and sectarian violence. My woes are pretty small, really. But, you know. . . bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.
Books I’m reading:
Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann (my main book: only 280 pages to go!)
Confessions of a Bookseller by Shaun Blythell (my bathroom book)
Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe (audiobook—good for distraction while cooking/washing dishes)
Books I’m planning to read:
Dot in the Universe by Lucy Ellmann
Autumn by Ali Smith
A Girl is a Half Formed Thing by Eimear McBride
Miss Lonelyhearts by Nathanael West
Hostages by Oisin Fagan
Four by Four by Sara Mesa
Music I’m digging:
Undercurrent by Bill Evans and Jim Hall
South of Heaven by Slayer
Various Merzbow recordings
Kentucky by Panopticon
On the Corner by Miles Davis
Assorted Mulgrew Miller, Red Garland, and Charles Mingus songs on Spotify
Blackstar by David Bowie
Civic Responsibility
While making a larger point about small actions that can have big impacts, Michael Pollan, in his essay “Why Bother?”, argues that part of what’s wrong with our society is that we’ve outsourced our basic needs. We rely on doctors for health care, agribusiness for food, construction companies for housing, and so on. While few of us can be so self-sufficient as to be carpenters, paramedics, gardeners, and cooks, what struck me about Pollan’s point is that we’ve gotten so good at producing comfort in this country that we expect it constantly. We demand that our favorite produce be available at all times, even if it doesn’t grow in our part of the world and is out of season. We assume that we can get cookies delivered at 2:00 AM after a night of sloth and smoking weed. We ask that our every quirk, kink, and yen be catered to and satisfied by the simple pressing of a button.
I’m no fan of roughing it, but right about now, the old hyper-convenience seems like madness. And speaking of roughing it, why is it that people love to go camping? Is it because we’ve divorced ourselves from some basic, possibly essential ways of living that we have to reclaim our inner pioneer by sleeping on dirt and eating hot dogs burnt by an open fire? Perhaps if we did eschew a few conveniences and reacquaint ourselves with everyday forms of roughing it we could save on campground fees and be better prepared when the shit inevitably hits the fan. We might be ready to plant our own food (some of it, at least), fix the things that break, find ways of doing for ourselves instead of calling an “expert.”
Or maybe we should just enjoy our luxuries in moderation? Going green for a day—turning off the TV, the computer, the iPhone—will not only have environmental benefits, it might allow us to be better prepared for times when the cable is out, the Wi-Fi is spotty, websites are crashing, shit is going south. It might afford us time to sit in silence (harder to do than ever), re-familiarize ourselves with our thoughts, or, I dunno, read a book again (I can recommend this one). Maybe we’ll revive the lost art of conversation? Maybe we’ll decide to write a letter instead of sending a text.
On that: yesterday, a card arrived in the mail from my wife’s cousin. He and his wife took the time to send us a handwritten note expressing their hope that we’re doing well and their desire to meet for dinner when all this is over. They included a note from their newborn son as well. And they know us well enough to have picked a card with a dog on it, a truly personal touch. This small gesture fucking floored me. Yeah, they’re sending texts and posting photos to Instagram, and as much as a lot of that has caused amusement, the card really meant something. How fucking hard is it to make someone’s day with a hand written card or letter? Who does that anymore?
My mom likes to tell the story of the Christmas Eve night when our power went out. We lit candles and sat around and talked to each other until Com Ed got the juice flowing. That night, briefly celebrating Xmas in the fashion of the Ingalls family, made my mother incredibly happy. Just a small family being together without the distraction of electric entertainment, chatting over candlelight. Thirty (?) years later, she still brings it up.
So what might we do when the world returns to normal? It seems like this could be the chance to rebuild and make it better. I doubt that we will because I’m a cynical bastard, but if ever there’s a chance to evolve and progress, this is it. Of course, we’ll need to understand our civic imperatives, the first being to become involved in the political process. There are measures taken on our collective behalf that are decided by people we do not know, who do not have our interests at heart, and who are probably too myopic from living in their own bubbles to understand what they are doing. These people have phone numbers. They ignore emails, so call them. Inconvenience them as you’re being inconvenienced now. Demand that restaurant workers and Lyft drivers get paid a living wage. Fuck working for tips. It’s cruel and stupid. Stomp for a healthcare system that doesn’t need to consider profits. Reject the lie that we can’t afford it. We can. We prioritize the wrong things when we deny that healthcare is a right. Shame these politicians for kowtowing to corporate interests over those of the people. Demand oversight, regulation, reasonable restrictions, and accountability. Vote even though it seems futile. Ignore the people who tell you not to vote, both the cynics and the so-called anarchists. Listen to the anarcho-sydicists some of the time; learn from them, but don’t let your “activism” and outrage extend to inaction. Fuck slacktivism. Join movements that might change something. Understand that the movement you join is likely full of shit, though probably not as much as the ones we have now. Be skeptical but act anyway. Don’t hashtag this shit. That’s a start, but go deeper. Avoid writing think pieces (oh, yeah, right… okay, moving on).
Be well
Because I give a fuck.
Stay in
Because it’s the easiest thing you can do, even when it’s difficult.