Following the Guidelines

I'm sick of people not taking me seriously about having the corona virus.  What is wrong with people?  They can't read?  They don't hear?  Jesus Christ, they should go to bars and beaches  I am simply asked if I have a fever.  People are idiots.  "Most people who contract the virus will have mild symptoms or no symptoms at all."  What about that do people not understand?  I get questions like, "Does it feel like a bowling ball is sitting on your chest?"  "What is your temperature?"  No wonder Gavin Newsom is saying that over 50% of the population of California will have the virus in the next eight weeks.  And I have to tell you, the people asking me these questions have advanced degrees.  No wonder I always feel 15% smarter than anyone in the room.  People's critical thinking skills are basically nil.

But I think I will be in the "vast majority" and will not develop the most severe symptoms.  I am hoping against hope.  No ventilator, please.

My symptoms are moderate.  I am sick.  I am following the guidelines and the recommendations for what to do.

Clear liquids, I've been told.  Gin and tonic.

A really weird thing today.  I was on my walk, and on the main traffic street by my house, a car like Ili's drove by.  I looked in, and I saw something that looked like her, only different.  The thing didn't look back at me.  It spooked me all day.

But it was definitely a beautiful first day of spring here.  The temperature was warm but the humidity was low, and there was a wonderfully gentle breeze.  In the late afternoon, restless from being contained for a week, I took a walk to the lake.  There was no one around.  The steady breeze coming off the water was almost cool.  I stood mesmerized on the dock for a long while noticing minnows and snake birds and turtles.  Ospreys floated above.  This dock is only a few blocks from my house.  I used to go all the time when I first moved in.  I haven't been in I don't know how long now.  A few times in the past few years.  But today was like a rebirth or renewal.  The quiet soothed me.  I have nothing else to do.  I will go now often.  Fuck, look out, I may be writing poetry soon.

Perhaps something like this (link).

I've lost even more money than I reported.  You see how money flows in the hands of a fool?  It just disappears if you don't spend it.  It disappears if you spend it, too, but often you have something to show whether internally or on your wall.  To wit: I am going to get my Russel Chatham prints framed no matter the cost.  They will bring me greater pleasure hanging on my walls than the money I am losing at the "casino."  True gamblers, they say, enjoy losing as much as they enjoy winning.

I am NOT a gambler.

Oh. . . and fuck Trump and anyone who still supports him.  Well. . . that doesn't include my mother.  No matter, though.  We're all in trouble now.

.* .* .*.

Morning.  I woke and lay in bed, eyes closed, trying to remember what it was like to snuggle, despairing of knowing that intimacy again.  In a moment, I begin to check my symptoms.  Hard to tell.  I get up, walk to the bathroom.  I don't feel so well.  It is still with me, I think.  Maybe, though, it is a little better.  I can't tell.  I get better, I get worse.  But how's my head?  What's going on in there?

Wait and see.

My cousin left my mother's house in the middle of the night to drive back to Ohio.  Her family wanted her back there in the Time of Corona.  They feared she would get sick here and would not be able to get back.  My mother will be alone until I am better.  She was whining about it when my cousin was packing up her things.  It will be hard on my mom now that she has had a couple months of companionship.

As I lay in bed this morning, I went through an inventory of people I know who live alone.  I could come up with only a handful.  My mother can come up with more.

If you didn't see this yesterday, I'll put it here to cheer you up (link).  I enjoyed such things when I was young.  Now, I wonder if it wouldn't be better to be a Catholic.  I know it didn't help medically in Italy, but maybe people felt somewhat better about things.

There is an article today about the Happiest Countries.  The top five are all Nordic.  My traveler/art friend says it is because they don't have Trump.  C.C. says it is because they don't have to spend money on a big military machine and can put it into things that bring more satisfaction (I won't quote him on which things).  But most obviously, it is social structure.  People who feel safety are happier than people who are merely entertained, it seems.

I just spent twenty minutes rewriting many of my controversial opinions out of that last paragraph.  It is difficult not to say stupid things.  Most of the time, however, they are merely entertaining.  But one must be careful which pile of shit to step into.  I try to stick to horse shit.

The sun is up and the sky is that clear blue that will only last another month or so here in the sunny south before humidity cloaks us in a tinny gray.  I should get out and enjoy it.  I'll take a walk.  I heard there were some baby owls down by the pond in the preserve down the street.  A must see, I am told.

I'll be back before the day is out, I am sure.  Most likely.