Skip to main content

Bloggy Blog #85

Thanks to quarantine, my exceptionally chiseled physique has fallen into such sad atrophy. Unscrewing jars with my left hand has now become a silly, yet challenging task. Twice in the last couple weeks I have managed to sprain A) a knee and B) an ankle while doing things I always do - getting into a car, and walking. Looking forward to falling in the shower. 

And speaking of walking, the only appropriate time I can do it is very early in the morning. Sure, maybe seven or eight in the morning doesn't seem that bad to some, but it is to me. It's too damn early! And there's too many people, with their dogs and cats and chickens or whatever they're walking up and down these streets. So I have been "postponing" the walking, to later, or mostly not at all. My cardiologist (if I had one) would be proud.

My local grocery store has been playing some corny, yet timely, overhead announcement lately. The last line she utters is "we're all in this together." The classic vanilla platitude in such a perilous time to live. As she says this, there's a handful of shoppers around me not wearing masks, and not obeying the one-way arrows in the aisles. Nobody cares in this country anymore. Or should I say, whatever is left of this country, the "United" States. 

And speaking of states, this one in particular is on a straight trajectory into a moldy toilet bowl. Cases are spiking, people are dying, and the governor is nothing but an obdurate schmuck in the matter. Along with good portions of the country, this state is gung-ho at shipping kids right back to school in a couple of weeks. And since we do absolutely nothing after school shootings, expect us to do the same when these buildings turn into prime petri dishes for our new airborne friend. Why do we hate children and teachers (and other school staff as well) so much? Let's ask our Secretary of Education, as soon as she docks one of her yachts for the weekend. 

If I were a good swimmer, I would breaststroke my way over to Europe and try and start the next chapter of my life there. Or maybe Australia. Or maybe go by boat, or flight (if I could afford either), or maybe hope my car could at least make it to Canada's border. Of course, none of us can travel to these countries right now, because we're now the immigrants from the "shithole country." 

So on second thought, maybe we truly are all in this together, since we are now all trapped here. 

Popular posts from this blog

Bloggy Blog #84

The first time I visited, I had to park across the street in the lot of an abandoned gas station. The lot itself went up a slight hill, and the station's sign would occasionally spin some slow turns whenever the town spirits wanted to have some fun.  She lived in a questionably constructed building on the second floor of this sleepy Revolutionary War town, adjacent to a craft store that was hardly ever open. In the basement sat a four-lane bowling alley and a small bar. It was by appointment only, which really meant the building's landlord had to be there to serve drinks and keep an eye on the action. I didn't get a chance to bowl down there, but seeing the construction of the building, this was probably a good thing. When she moved out of her place, part of the process involved placing a three-foot wide plank over the bowling alley basement stairs, in order to move big furniture out. Needless to say she left the heavy lifting to the moving experts.  The new plac...
Read more

Bloggy Blog #17

     From 2001-03, I called the northwest corner of Louisiana my home. My initial foray into the real world was met with a trip halfway across the country - a trip that consisted of a thirty-six hour bus ride (with plenty of transfers in sketchy towns in between) and a friend in Little Rock who took me the rest of the way to the Pelican State. Prior to this, my only moment spent in the state was interviewing for the position. That was early June, where I hopped aboard a couple planes and was whisked away to campus for hours upon hours of interrogation. The interview process wasn't really that bad, but what was bad was my ill-fated idea to take a walk around campus shortly after the interview ended. I was drenched in sweat upon my return, completely oblivious that the humidity there stuck around much longer than it did back in upstate New York. Regardless, I was in love. I was in love with this idea of continuing (starting, maybe?) my life elsewhere. The first few weeks...
Read more

Bloggy Blog #19

    I was, to put it mildly, an absolutely disgusting high school cross-country runner. No, disgusting is not slang for good. I mean bad. Real bad. A teammate - who wasn't a very proficient runner himself - often competed in what appeared to be casual street shoes or cross trainers. During some races I finished behind him. This happened for a variety of reasons, none of which have to do with him probably being a better runner than me. The most critical reason why I often found myself in the middle or close to the end of the pack of meet competitors is the fact that at some point during the races, I just stopped caring. I mentally shut down. Gave up. Waved a white flag. Why the hell am I even here? , I'd ask myself. Literally hundreds of runners have passed me already, and I'm barely halfway through. There may have been a race or two where I actually stopped running once we got into the woods and knew there was no chance of anyone seeing me. I'd walk a couple steps,...
Read more