Bohemian Musings From The Garret

Musings During the Time of Covid-19 (or Unwinding the Mind)

In this baffling age of Covid one can’t be sure of anything. The days’ march on. The nights’ march on. Quality of living has diminished. That we are sure of. We live in this new cage of fear. The rules of the game are constantly changing. Wear one mask, wear two masks, one over the other.  Socially distance yourself, stay six feet apart, wash your hands vigorously, don’t touch your face, Lysol the toilets, get fresh air, but not with other people. We have no idea who is harboring the virus. Keep a safe distance away, wash your clothes when coming back from Walmart, wipe down the grocery carts, take a bath in a solution of Mr. Clean (don’t do that). Rub your face down with Clorox, but don’t drink it! Take Vitamin D, Pepcid also seems to help, Zinc too! Add to that, trying to figure out what vaccine is best for what phase of the disease with the lowest number of side effects! Not that you have a choice….

Walks in the park can be therapeutic. Except that there are scores of people doing the same thing. Some are masked, some are mask-less. Not everyone follows the rules! There are few places to escape to where you are not threatened by the noncompliant…I guess it is too much to ask that we care about our fellow humanity!

I pass a young tree that is stunted on the edge of the sidewalk. It’s thirsting for air, like the asphyxiated we read about in hospital ICUs.  I see clouds, puffier in the sky, that are no longer fractured by exhaust trails, looking more pristine than usual. A pale, scintillating light glows through the dinner bubbles on main street as homeless, vagabonds stroke their beards in homage. Another morning driven by fear, disillusionment, and pots and pans floating in the kitchen sink. The dried up dog urine from the night before wafts through the boardinghouse.

 I ponder if my neighbor is shacking up with another spouse while I work remotely, isolated, in the office. The panes are glazed with ice, forming a translucent seal that I can’t see through anymore.  A news report is broadcasting that a number of whales are dying off the coast of Mexico. What could have caused that? Water pollution? Scarcity of food? Bubble wrap twisted in their lungs? Or a new water-borne virus that came straight from the mainland?

 Speaking of which, the home aquarium looks bugged out. Fish that are typically healthy are ill with an unknown infection. Under the microscope it looks round and spiky. I hope that isn’t the case.

   The new rugs are infested with bed bugs. My maid is afraid to use any vacuum cleaner that does not have a HEPA filter. She insists I buy her one or else she will not clean anything. I’m highly allergic to dust mites so this is an impending disaster.

In other circumstances a cool breeze is welcomed. It is now sinister as it could be carrying dangerous air droplets that could infect the household. I don my mask, oops, my two masks, the surgical one underneath, the cloth one on top, as the NIH Director, Dr. Doom, has recommended. It’s hard trying to find a balance where you can breathe and not cause spontaneous cyanosis. Turning blue from oxygen deprivation somehow does not provide me comfort.

 In this state of mind, I risk waking every morning. I have these marathon dreams that ramble into nowhere, that take me light years away, then I come back, to my dog yakking in my face. It is no small wonder I can still think straight with all the shit the radio and television announcers spout and the thousand streaming services that feed us propaganda mixed with facts every day. You have to be a magician to understand all the garble, the senseless talking heads, the cacophony of nothingness that smothers our minds. I walk to the coffee shop every morning to rid myself of auditory hysteria (a new disease), to establish some sanity in my life. A respite that is not always precarious and unsettling. As least, in my world of knowing, I can be assured coffee will stimulate me, and wake me up, to another round of blah in this blah waiting period for blah progress.

Someone stops at the door. Uber eats on the way. Must remember to wipe down the package, could be contaminated with THE VIRUS. Safe hygiene is always leaking into my mind. Like a runaway train on a mission. I hear cymbals in the background. White noise of my life. I shook violently, the Uber Eats were poisoned. A mass conspiracy to depopulate. They have a contract with the NSA. So says my whacky mailman. I rush to the toilet to empty the Covid remnants of my life. Strange I think like this. To get over the hump, instead of straddling between two worlds, one normal and the other a distortion of what is possible.

Amazing progress are other words for small progress. Multiple vaccines to choose from, but none I qualify for yet. HERD IMMUNITY is like the golden fleece, an impossible quest. The roll-out for the vaccine is like the show BOTCHED. But this reality show we are now living has head counts.

  The delusions used in language are what are amazing. Hidden behind the words is where meaning actually comes from. I explore meanings. Derivatives from the subconscious coming forward. If we understood our subconscious we would understand our consciousness more of the time. I opine: “comprehension is a noble art”, but few of us realize that.

We stroke our own egos in an effort to support what we manifest. We are merely permeable cellular jelly gyrating around in a disinterested universe. We think we are more important than the small tadpoles we see swimming around in a green pond. Most of us prostitute ourselves some way on our jobs. We say “yes” when we mean “no” to keep employed and to give the illusion of peace. Ancillary to the suppository is the right pointer finger! Say that during a performance review! Learn to calibrate language ever so delicately. That will ensure survival!

The slower pace is mesmerizing. Trips to Walmart and the local grocers being the magnum opus of any given day. Virus flies by me every day but I am not cognizant of it. I suspect it is aware of me, looking for a kink in my body’s armor. I shoo it away.

 I remind myself again and again to be safe and not to take needless risks. The cashier gives me a subliminal once over, making sure I am not disreputable as I eye the corona tattoo on her exposed left arm. She is not a masterpiece by Leonardo’s standards. But cheeky in an attractive way. I blow past the Walmart greeter as he is saying “hello, welcome to Walmart”. I feel bad but I must get out quickly. The virus you know.

Everything is falling apart. My mask is sliding off my nose. It has left me with a hyperbolic rash that I can’t hide. My eyes itch. I hope no particles of virus have mistakenly taken them for a home. I can smell coffee so I am relieved. I use this as the litmus test for good health. Once I can’t smell that I know I am in trouble.

The images of variants percolating in my stomach frazzles me. I shelter myself in my car as I wait for calm to return. Hypnagogic, I struggle to stay awake. I think I have caught the virus, or it has caught me. Snared in another trap. I await my next report in my inbox from Medical News to check on my new symptoms. I reach out only to find the station I usually listen to is doing a test on the emergency broadcast system. All the stations are proclaiming stay at home orders, be wary of the virus, distance yourself from yourself, even from the insects in your backyard. New reports link mosquitoes to the Covid-19 virus (not true). As if the West Nile virus was not enough to keep you indoors.

Gone are the days of my carefree life. I routinely triple mask now in public and look like a character from the Handmaid’s Tale. Ofdan they call me on the street, only my eyes are exposed, surveilling for trouble. I wish it wasn’t so, but life in all its charm in a bubble is the new normal.

The metamorphosis is almost complete. Society has changed forever. Cities are being swallowed up and bled of people. The suburbs are filling up, with people fearful of mass transit, crowded conditions, and the lack of space. Remote work is becoming routine as companies find out the cost of real estate and expenses they can shed.

The rails are like ghost towns, even the parkways seem quieter. A great calm has arisen across the land. That is, outside of hospitals, where there is constant noise and sirens, and refrigerated trucks, stark reminders of the pandemic.

I lost an Aunt and a neighbor to this slippery contagion, unseen horror of the masses. Its phantasmagorical nature and invisibility lead us to the false belief we can duck it. I witnessed shouting matches around the value of wearing masks. People dulled by the length of the quarantine taking out their frustrations on any target they seize upon. Survival of the loudest it seems.

The real toll is on our minds. This new reality can exacerbate mental illness allowing vulnerable individuals to unravel, like a serpentine snake coiled and ready to strike in the far recesses of sanity. Government provides hotlines to call, a small allowance that doesn’t address the bigger picture of pain and uncertainty this continued pandemic brings.

I step off the sidewalk, filled with dread, a brewing tinnitus has become worse. I need to determine if this is the onset of something. The beginning of the end or maybe a new beginning. It strikes me that each moment of time is becoming more important. Time used to run by, like water, it’s meaning transitory. Today, it is different, each action stretches onward into infinity, rippling into the universe of things and non-things.

I see a bird house dangerously close to slipping off a branch dangling by my fence. Teetering on the edge, symbolizing the psyche of humanity. I go over and move it to a safer limb. This small act of kindness restores my vitality. An emotional link is formed between the doing and the good deed. A small token of rewilding.

Passerby stragglers brave the cold air to walk their small pooches near where I live. Their plodding reminds me of old camels in the desert searching for an oasis in the sun. Their greeting is heavy from the boredom they are experiencing. I almost want to shout at them to “wake up!” and enjoy the gift of life so many have lost.

No matter how dangerous our environments are, civility should not be overlooked. I notice the sky is turning a deep grey. The weather is turning. I grapple with the beauty of being alive, as tiny snowflakes anoint the landscape with a blanket of fleece.

The virus lingers. So do I.