Editor’s Note: Yesterday’s outing on the Mayflower Compact and the layers of indignity in this strange year stimulated Marlow to take a look at the Plague, month by month. It has been interesting for us all. And better than looking at House bill HR-1, which Speaker Pelosi intends to use to bring California to us all. what fun1

– Vic

Plague Journal Cut-Ups & Outs

When I started to paste these word cut-ups&outs together, I was bestilled by the spirits of writer’s block. I glanced at these scribblings and felt I shouldn’t revisit them. Those past moments were a poisoned river from which we are fortunate to be escaping with vaccines and treatment regimens now abounding. Still one feels awe at how threatened we were, even months after the events unfolded and were recorded.

Here are a few example entries from early on in 2020:

Early April: late night . . . formerly crowded downtown, the few people who were still working there started home, unlike pre-virus crowds going home from work, they did not window shop nor meet and have a drink or a meal with friends — I mean straight back to their rooms, apartments or homes here, and then out to buy some meager take out at the dwindling number of places still able to remain open and make it financially, since staples like meats, pastas, fresh veggies like tomatoes, etc are unseen an hour after delivery on store shelves to make our usual recipes — fortunately their meal trips tonight turned out successfully, since several small places finally were able to pool resources and buy the supplies from the closed bistros and whip out meals using smart ingredient substitutes and offering cocktails by the large plastic gallon-sized Ziploc bag — folks were eating on their front porches or in their yards, talking on and on with their neighbors across the narrow tree lined streets or next door — once meals were consumed, they came back out with more drinks and talked about anything other than the plaque — pathetic enough, and harmless except for the huge amounts of alcohol we used to calm ourselves — with liquor stores being essential businesses and bars being closed, people scoured these stores such that they were becoming empty like the grocery stores — I noted what an impact knowing which stores had recent product deliveries made their names valuable currency.

Back in my armchair late, tired, and rather contented, as if some of my curiosity has been assuaged — as if I had been able to verify what I had known already — that most of the people in the world, and in the Coastal Empire, are just like you and me, if not more so — as afraid, as bored, as supremely ravenous of any minor splendor that came their way — despite which, once one forgets that, this is still a good place to live, especially on holidays, especially for doing nothing much, especially if you have great neighbors and enough money to get by — especially too, if you have a woman, someone to kiss and love — like my W — those who don’t will likely become stunted and frozen inside — but sticking together we can still easily smile and chuckle without effort — evenings with spontaneous laughter are more treasured than ever before.

Late April: W spent more than forty minutes in the morning walking the park, the squares and down to the river and the queer silence of its previously people-jammed hub-bubbing banks, very quiet with no lovers, groom and bridal party drunk-a-thons, artists, peddlers, drinkers, or idlers — back home, she reported her findings as we drank coffee as she imitated for me the things and people she had seen — saying she’d passed two liquor stores closed as they had empty shelves and handwritten signs of forthcoming deliveries dates and new operating hours — she had a headache probably from the spring pollen, and her legs a bit sore from the steep cobblestoned climbs to and from the river — but no bad moods — despite the lockdown there is no boredom because we work daily at discharging tension, so there is contentment even if we sit looking at the street for several hours at a time from our front porch or from the side garden, quite content — we were gifted with unexpected visitors who admired the garden’s spring blossoms and wanted to talk of things around town — we enjoyed these visits, and even felt a little warmth in their hearts — we tried to draw them out — not much luck with a few as they hurry, hurry, hurry or “I’ll miss my . . .” — so, farewell, good luck, stop by another time.

June: when we formed our household, W’s and my sizeable knife collection ranged from small 1950s Boy Scout pocket knives, switchblades to US Navy swords, KA-BARs, and some of the finest butcher knives and foreign meal cutlery on the planet — I soon discovered she liked to whip one out at any given moment especially when a package arrived — my multiple wine club membership deliveries has become an unscheduled entertainment during the plague — an excuse to slash open the box became our secret pleasure — despite my digits sporting multiple scars from such activities during my life we have not yet cut off any of ours despite our weapon-rich environment — and yes, we ordered from an online store a set of professional knife sharpening stones — our slasher collection now gleams with a sharpness rarely seen.

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