Clutter

The disruptions of life during the pandemic are innumerable, and I do not think we will again have access to the life we lived before the onset of this condition. I have hope that we will have life though I don’t know what that life might look like when this will be over. Maybe it won’t end, however. I have been sequestered for the most part since February and seen veritably nobody. The movie houses have all been closed but I cannot imagine wanting to enter one even when they reopen for screenings. I never was one to visit restaurants, either because I was too frugal or because I preferred my own cuisines and cooking. Certainly the wines I pour chez moi are less expensive than any I could order at the table. My counterspaces are covered. The last social engagement which I enjoyed was mid-March and I am not eager to be invited anywhere or to invite anyone here for the near future. I do shop with the older folk at the grocery store and about once a month (well, sometimes more) I visit the liquor store. Twice a day I walk wearing a mask and look angrily at those who go without or who refuse to maintain six feet distance between me and them. I find my moods are not just a bit darker but tend toward the incensed and infuriated. I believe that no one’s freedom should endanger my own and I resent Trump and his sycophants who refuse to acknowledge the seriousness of the pandemic and do little to offer some relief. Even as I type the Republican governor of Florida, the new epicenter of the pandemic, refuses to mandate the wearing of mask and insists that the schools will open soon. The governor of Minneapolis has behaved judiciously and has again mandated masks in public indoor locations, but the neighboring Republican legislature in Wisconsin has been criminally inept and incautious and opened bars and restaurants and other business establishments. The government has become openly fascistic though its has behaved fascistically for its entire reign. We are governed by an administration of liars and bullies.  

I have cooked regularly and baked bread, muffins, scones and cobblers. I learned to make ice cream in a mason jar, but ice cream in the house represents a constant danger. I feed my sour starter with regularity. Outside of myself, the starter is the only other living thing in the apartment. And I have come to be oppressed by the clutter that develops in the seclusion. Issues of the journals to which I subscribe lie about on the floors where I have tossed them, or they cover the kitchen table where I might read them during a meal. I retain them so that I can’t run out of reading material een if some of the articles don’t really appeal to me. But sometimes I am desperate. I can’t go into a bookstore and so I order from Amazon.com. Some of these books are not meant for my shelves but I cannot take them to Half-Price Books where they will buy them for much less than half-price. Many I have started but could not finish. They pile up on the nightstand and by almost every chair in the apartment. Most surfaces including the floor are carpeted with pieces of mail destined eventually for recycling all about the apartment. I purchase everything through the mails and so I have accumulated supplies of everything I might need for the next six months. They are stored in cabinets that are slowly filling up. And as long as I am at it, why not purchase an expensive new chef's knife. I buy and it is here in two days. More wrapping materials. Why not a new duvet cover: I’ve been looking at the same one steadily for six months. It seems that changing it out is something I can do when there is so much I can’t. Three days delivery. More packing materials. Clothes hang in the bathrooms and the bedrooms on hooks or on the backs of chairs. There are too many cables and cords and attachments all hooked up somewhere and coiled snakelike on floors and desks. I yet have three desks but I don’t know why even as I note their surfaces are covered.

It has become a claustrophobic space. As the virus spreads the walls close in. And it is even summertime and the sun shines brightly. The livin’ ought to be easier and less cluttered. 

Ain't Talking

Since 1962 I’ve listened to the music of Bob Dylan, studied his lyrics as literature, referred frequently in my blog to his writings from which I have learned much, and for more than 30 years quoted from his corpus in my own scholarly writings. I have written very little in which Dylan’s words have not figured as an important voice in my conversations. 

         These are more than troubling times: the danger to democracy is great and Trump seems to want to crown himself King and crush all opposition as did the European tyrannical monarchs of the 16^th to 18^th centuries. He seems to have the approval of the Republican Party. The presence and unmarked federal troops in Portland and the threat of their deployment in all of those Democratic cities, as Trump refers to them, reminds me of the actions of the royal troops in the streets of London and Paris and Berlin who were charged to arrest all critics of the regimes. I have been rereading A Tale of Two Cities, and I see in the present situation mirror images of the streets of Paris during the reign of Louis XVI and the eighteen-year imprisonment in the Bastille of Dr. Alexandre Manette. We are now in real danger of losing our democracy.

       And so to make some sense of it all I turn again to Dylan. In “Ain’t Talking” I hear this:

They say prayer has the power to help
So pray for me mother
In the human heart an evil spirit can dwell
I’m trying to love my neighbor and do good unto others
But oh, mother, things ain’t going well

       Here we are in the midst of what is being referred to as the biggest crisis since World War II and Trump has grown tired of the issue and abandoned all concern with it despite the rising incidence of infection and deaths as a result of his inaction and his flagrant dismissal of all scientific advice. If one needed an exemplar of the modern autocrat then Trump would aptly serve. All he pronounces is the absurd “I know best,” which sounds to me not unlike the despotic statement of Louis XIV’s declaration, “I am the State.” Today’s online New York Times reports, “Federal agents in Portland have snatched protesters off the streets and thrown them into unmarked vehicles without explaining why they were being detained or arrested, according to some of those who have been seized. Oregon’s governor, Kate Brown, has called it “a blatant abuse of power,” and the city’s mayor, Ted Wheeler, has called it “an attack on our democracy.” The state attorney general has filed a lawsuit seeking a restraining order against the federal agents for what she called unlawful tactics.” 

       And yet . . . Trump’s base, following his lead, refuse to maintain social distance, refuse to wear masks, and seem willing to send their children into the schools where they will not only be subject to infection but may be carriers and infect teachers who are more susceptible to the virus. I’m trying to love my neighbor . . . but things ain’t going well. I walk twice a day now and always wear my masks. Too many people following Trump’s lead refuse the mask and walking with a companion do not maintain between them six feet distance. Runners and walkers coming in the opposite direction from me make eye contact with me and I with them deciding who will move to the side to maintain six feet distance between us. But there are some who look directly in my eyes and refuse to move even when it is obvious that they have the space into which to step and I do not. I would like to say something, but I’m afraid of getting shot.
       And now there are rumors that Trump is readying the troops to disavow the results of the election should he lose (please, please, please may it be so)! He threatens to declare fraud and move to invalidate the vote. And who will stop him? I’m trying to love my neighbor  . . . But oh, mother, things ain’t going well.

Questions Have Been Raised

 

Questions that have arisen during this long shut-in:

 

Questions that have arisen during this long shut-in:

 

1.     Is there an appropriate hour during the day when one may begin to eat potato chips.

a.     A related question: During the pandemic does the recommended portion size change. And if so, does it go up or down?

b.     A related question: if begun early, say at noon or before, should another food be served at cocktail hour. (This event has during the pandemic been referred to as quarantail hour and occurs virtually). 

c.     A related question: can one continue drinking after the hour is over? Would it be appropriate to switch beverages?

2.     Baking has become de rigeur. But I have gifted loaves of bread to all I could safely do and still there are loaves in the freezer. I wonder: how many loaves must one man have?

a.     A related question: is it safe to keep both scones and muffins in the house at the same time? And can I add a summer berry cobbler to the larder? And what about mason jar ice cream? Or should I just keep a ready supply of Redi-Whip?

3.     It has now been almost five months since I last visited the hair salon. Now, during the 1960s and 70s I enjoyed my long hair, but right now I am sensing that the mop is becoming very heavy and my bangs keep falling in front of my eyeglasses. I too often imagine that I am being attacked by a horde of gnats. Are there men-clips for bangs?

a.     A related question: I refuse to trim my beard for fear of erring and cutting a long swath through it. I own the adjustable appliance that would allow me to barber myself,  however, I have probably thrown out the directions and I don’t remember exactly in which direction I must turn the dial to control the depth of the blade. As I said, I have worn this beard for almost 45 years: I have no face that doesn’t include the beard and I am not willing to endanger the façade. Shall I simply let the beard continue to grow and assume the look say, of William James? Or Henry David Thoreau? Or Moses?

4.     At what hour does it become acceptable to begin binge watching? 

a.     A related question: After a mid-morning nap how long must one wait to take an afternoon lie-down? Should one move locations for each snooze?

b.     A related question: would there be an appropriate order of shows/movies? I suspect starting with light-hearted series and move through the day into the heavier and darker fare. 

c.     A related question: should one eat in front of the television or computer screen? Would this be a serious return to the 1950s and Swanson Tv dinners served on bridge trays. 

5.     When I walk: with walkers from the opposite direction I make eye contact and we choose who will move out of the vicinity to maintain six feet distance. Is it appropriate and dangerous to declare to those who refuse to move though they have the space to do so when I do not that they are rude assholes? 

6.     Oh dear, when will this end, and what will the world be like when it is over? We cannot know but perhaps we can have hope. 1.     Is there an appropriate hour during the day when one may begin to eat potato chips.

a.     A related question: During the pandemic does the recommended portion size change. And if so, does it go up or down?

b.     A related question: if begun early, say at noon or before, should another food be served at cocktail hour. (This event has during the pandemic been referred to as quarantail hour and occurs virtually). 

c.     A related question: can one continue drinking after the hour is over? Would it be appropriate to switch beverages?

2.     Baking has become de rigeur. But I have gifted loaves of bread to all I could safely do and still there are loaves in the freezer. I wonder: how many loaves must one man have?

a.     A related question: is it safe to keep both scones and muffins in the house at the same time? And can I add a summer berry cobbler to the larder? And what about mason jar ice cream? Or should I just keep a ready supply of Redi-Whip?

3.     It has now been almost five months since I last visited the hair salon. Now, during the 1960s and 70s I enjoyed my long hair, but right now I am sensing that the mop is becoming very heavy and my bangs keep falling in front of my eyeglasses. I too often imagine that I am being attacked by a horde of gnats. Are there men-clips for bangs?

a.     A related question: I refuse to trim my beard for fear of erring and cutting a long swath through it. I own the adjustable appliance that would allow me to barber myself,  however, I have probably thrown out the directions and I don’t remember exactly in which direction I must turn the dial to control the depth of the blade. As I said, I have worn this beard for almost 45 years: I have no face that doesn’t include the beard and I am not willing to endanger the façade. Shall I simply let the beard continue to grow and assume the look say, of William James? Or Henry David Thoreau? Or Moses?

4.     At what hour does it become acceptable to begin binge watching? 

a.     A related question: After a mid-morning nap how long must one wait to take an afternoon lie-down? Should one move locations for each snooze?

b.     A related question: would there be an appropriate order of shows/movies? I suspect starting with light-hearted series and move through the day into the heavier and darker fare. 

c.     A related question: should one eat in front of the television or computer screen? Would this be a serious return to the 1950s and Swanson Tv dinners served on bridge trays. 

5.     When I walk: with walkers from the opposite direction I make eye contact and we choose who will move out of the vicinity to maintain six feet distance. Is it appropriate and dangerous to declare to those who refuse to move though they have the space to do so when I do not that they are rude assholes? 

6.     Oh dear, when will this end, and what will the world be like when it is over? We cannot know but perhaps we can have hope.