Corona Virus Thoughts

A tattooed, bearded, shirtless man did push-ups in the parking lot of the grocery store while his dog curled up snoozing next to his backpack.

President Trump enlisted Creed in the fight against the virus. He requested they write and perform a Fight the Corona Virus RAWK Anthem. In an empty stadium, of course. Creed knows how that goes.

I’ve spent much of the last four weeks planting trees to restore a wrecked, poisoned watershed. It’s fine work and I am totally alone except for birds and plants and bees. I am lucky to have this.

My best friend of late has been a chipmunk.

I’ve read 17 books in three weeks. Four were Westerns. My favorite so far is a biography of the Danish writer Isak Dinesen by Judith Thurman. It might be the best literary biography I have ever read. It teaches you about her incredible life and how to write and how not to live as a writer.

I’ve built 14 snowdrift forts in three weeks.

I’ve written absolutely nothing.

I started my 150th or so journal last week.

I’m going to make a vegetarian meatloaf.

My peas are coming up.

Is there a market for environmentally-conscious erotica?

I have helped my elderly neighbors.

I have wondered what percentage of Americans have never planted a tree.

You can feel people slipping away.

I miss my great collaborator.

The virus presents an opportunity for many self-reflecting people to revolutionize their lives. I have feeling they don’t have the courage to do it once the dust settles. Back to business as miserable usual.

I watched another Fred Astaire movie. What is it about him and those ascots or scarves or whatever they are called around his neck? He looks the same age in every film and some of them are 30 to 40 years apart. The word that comes to mind when I watch him is: debonair.

Dog fever has struck.

I keep seeing empty cans of Viennese sausages along the road. Is that the food of the apocalypse?