Corona Virus Thoughts #12

Pressure from the pandemic cracked a member of my family. He reached out for help and I am doing the best I can from afar. I offer him no agendas nor cliches. Just listen and offer a few suggestions for activities that helped me survive a recent cataclysm, and that might be of some use to him. He’s getting the Siddhartha writing prompts soon.

I’ve almost finished writing the Western. Once I do, I will have written the book in one month. Now I know how Louie L’Amour did it.

The fraudulent assault on voting by mail continues by a President who votes flawlessly by mail.

My mind drifts to old friends long gone. I’d love to hear from them. I’d love to be surprised.

The latest strange wanderer, the long haired guitar man keeps appearing. I don’t know he possibly lives, and with two dogs.

Another strange wanderer showed up yesterday. She’s young, obese, wearing a backpack and walking with two leashed-up collies. How does she possibly live?

I’m reading Butterfied 8 by John O’Hara and liking its decadence, elegant decadence, as opposed to the decadence of driving around town vaping weed in a sedan missing all but the front windshield.

Took a six-mile hike along a river yesterday. Saw some 300-year old Douglas firs that somehow survived the cross cut saw and chainsaw. When I walked by them, it always made me think: these are going to live longer than the United States of America.

I’m working on a pandemic writing curriculum. If only I could teach it somewhere.

I’m thinking about buying an RV, rescuing a mutt, and write the great American RV book (not a novel).

Listening to “Walking in LA” by Missing Persons. What a song! Only a nobody walks in LA…

I saw Michelle Obama on television giving a speech. As I listened, it occurred to me that she could beat Trump by 15 points without ever campaigning. It also occurred to me that she has a duty to her country to do so, something akin as going to war for your country to repel an invasion of the homeland.