One Month Inside 🏘 | Perforated Lines
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⚡ April 4, 2020

One Month Inside 🏘

Stephen Colbert becomes a mere mortal. One of us.

Stephen Colbert becomes a mere mortal. One of us.

I’ve worked from home since 1983, when I got fired from my high-level post at an international corporation. I was the Publicity Director for a company, it turns out, that didn’t really want too much attention. Since that company still exists and the newsletter I started is still going strong, I’ll have to keep my conspiracy theories to myself and just report that I am lousy at office politics. I am perfectly suited to working alone.

Now everyone is working alone, wiping off invisible germs, and wondering if they’ll make payroll or meet their maker before this is over. Depending on when you started to isolate yourself, the world has been turning inside out for about a month now.

If I didn’t watch and believe the video screens, I would notice nothing different. The newly identified Covid-19 germ does not exist here unless I worry it into existence, just like botulism or lockjaw or the knife in the night. If I stay away from Twitter, I won’t get angry. If I stay away from Facebook, I won’t get terrified when I see someone’s name float by. Grannies and Nanas and PopPops are being highlighted and then gone in a flash as the Logans run to WoodStock III, being ironically held this year in Tombstone.

A dry cough is but a dry cough until it’s not. Is a hotflash a fever? Is the media whipping up the brush fire? Or is it reporting from the front of the firestorm, running along with the horses and goats and frightened au pairs, all running on long skinny legs, running down US 1, racing to the sunset they will never catch.

What a time to be alive, eh? I had a momentary setback the other day after some groceries came into the house and maybe – forgive me Cesar Chavez, I gotta have a grape – and maybe I didn’t wash it off so well, or not at all. I worried that some chicken tenders I’d tenderly microwaved and cut into tiny tender pieces and was contentedly chewing when suddenly! I had no sensation of taste! Ptoui! Jumping to conclusions is so exhausting. I tasted two blueberries before I finally tasted a raspberry and knew it was old food, good old food from the back of the freezer and the back of the top shelf and so it goes. This is an insane way of thinking …

… and the only antidote to the insane is to research the topic on the internet. You have to know what you’re doing, of course, and you have to know how any particular site is built and bent. Learn who to trust. Ask your most trusted family members, for starters. How are they building their own psyches in these strange times? Trust me, if you ever did. I haven’t fallen asleep next to my own pod, as far as I can remember. But suddenly and without warning, I have finally felt the desire to write out a will. I’ve told the children and will be welcoming their input, as always. Then, I will turn to witchcraft. Just kidding … it’s too easy.

Worse, I became sort of depressed after I saw the Stephen Colbert video at the top of this blog entry. Seeing a big celebrity shrink into the level playing field of an original YouTube video being shot from a corner of his house – it’s too too rich with cultural irony. I can’t get over the fact that Coumo has been filming from a hallway – and aren’t hallways always drafty? – and meanwhile, he’s got the virus. One by one, two by two, hands of blue …

And Stephen seemed both shaky as well as bored, if that’s possible. Maybe it was real liquor in the bottle in many of the frames; that’s not the point. We’re trying to gather clues as to our real situation from people we know who might know more than we know, if you know what I mean. I thought we knew Stephen, but noooooo. Stephen shows us that he’s wearing a suit on top and only underwear on the bottom and then he showed us his underwear in an Anthony Weiner kind of way. Enough said. Our icons have shaky legs with scars all over their thighs. Keep researching!

We will build a positive bridge to our desired future and we are rolling up our sleeves and coughing into our own bandit masks. Facial recognition software is so screwed … and the possibilities for face masks are endless, including advertising space, duh. But consider wearing a photo of someone else’s smile that’s been laser-printed onto cloth and becomes a mask that will actually screw up the facial recognition software even further. Think about one of those flip books with different tops and bottoms, but in real time. Especially if people choose their own face-bottoms to wear. David Bowie or Che Guevara or Guy Fawkes spring to mind.

Be safe out there. There’s no such thing as an invisible enemy. Remember, nature abhors a vacuum and the invisible must have a face. 🐔

A flip book.