THE POWERS THAT BE CRAZY, GREELEY, AND MASK-HOLES

So there's this town north of here called Greeley. On certain days, since I have lived here, at certain times of year, the wind blows this really awful stench into Denver. A combination of poop and decay that smells like an army of zombies got food poisoning from eating too many brains  and let loose. When I first experienced this invisible cloud of noxiousness, I asked my wife what was happening. She said it was Greeley. Apparently there is a lot of cattle up there, and the feedlots fill up with nastiness, and hence the smell. Don't take my word for it. Google it. I just did, using "smell from greeley" and got all sorts of articles. They say it isn't as bad as it used to be. Which is scary. If you shit the bed only twice a night, but used to five times, it's still a problem. But most folks seem to be able to live with it, I guess. At least they do up in Greeley.

So, last night, I was watching Maddow. It's my go to news show, and the only one I can watch for more than ten minutes without switching the channel. One of the big stories last night on her show was how there is this meat packing plant up in Greeley that has a Covid problem. Five employees dead from the disease, and an unknown amount of workers with it. Unknown because they stopped testing early on after discovering that of the people that they had tested, there was over forty percent positives for Covid. The plant shut down for a bit, was even promised help with more testing from VP Pence on national TV. But the testing help never materialized, and now the plant is open again, with the same people, and who knows how many infected folks. So now, instead of filling our nostrils with the stench of animal waste, the town of Greeley will be filling our lungs with infection. But don't take my word for it. Google it. I just did, using the words "greeley meat packing plant covid". And lots of articles popped up. And from reliable local sources like KDVR, CPR, the Denver Post. So, thanks Greeley. You suck.

If you want to see the Maddow segment, click HERE. I know, it's over three minutes. But I think you have the time these days.

There seems to be this really bizarre fantasy going on, this rash of magical thinking that not only equates the death rate of the virus to the flu, but that we've weathered the storm, it's all over, and now we can go back to being our old careless, carefree selves, throw our masks away, and do whatever we want. I think that's nuts. First off, I don't want to go back to a world of ignorance. I don't think that helped us. I don't want a world where medical care is treated like a luxury. That's part of what got us here. I don't want to go back to a world the air stinks from time to time so that our beef costs less. I don't want to move backwards. We need to,  and eventually will, move forward.

Because, despite opening up some states, and not wearing masks, and whatever the POTUS says, the virus is still here. People are still dying. And will continue to do so. I wonder what will happen when the number of deaths from the virus surpasses the flu rate? Will the powers that be adjust the numbers of flu deaths? And why does that even matter? Fifty six thousand additional deaths on top of natural causes like flu and cancer and car crashes is a lot of additional deaths. It's not like people are dying of Covid instead of flu. Still, more and more folks are walking around without masks, getting closer and closer to each other. I have a friend who works at Home Depot who calls those without masks mask-holes. I like that. Seems to fit. I have another friend whose mother yells "six feet apart or six feet under" at the mask-holes in her neighborhood. Confrontational, perhaps, but accurate.

So, what to do? I think get ready. This is all the first act of the movie, the part where the situation is set, and we meet all the players. Act Two is about to begin, with twists, turns, a dark night of the soul, leading to a big confrontation of some sort. And then Act Three, where we blow up the Death Star.

We will get through this. Not without blood, sweat, and tears. But will will get through this.

Here's a song. It's Spinning Wheels.

FOR A FEW DOLLARS MORE

Another weird theatre dream. We were in NYC on a visit, and were gong to see the new show that everyone was talking about like it was the next The Ferryman. Lisa had somehow already seen it and wanted me to see it as well, so there we were. We were out front of the theatre, the day before we were meant to go, and something had happened to the power in the building during Act One, and people were outside, waiting to the OK to start it up again. We decided it would be fun to drop in on Act Two and see what was happening. When the show was supposed to start, there was a loud popping sound, and the stage manager announced they were having technical difficulties and to please stand by. So we left. Then it was the next day, and we were in line again, this time for the whole show, start to finish. Everyone was excited, talking about the show, how much they were looking forward to it, and so on. I noticed that Paul Reiser outside, and I knew he was the playwright for the show, like you do in dreams. So I went up to him and we chatted about the show. He was very nice. For some reason, I decided I needed a good cappuccino, and didn't want to pay the exorbitant price they charge in Broadway theatre lobbies, so I asked one of the ushers where a good place for a cappuccino was. The usher, who was a very old man, pointed me to a bodega just across the street. The theatre, by the way, was on the Upper East Side, where I lived for several years, which is nowhere near the theatre district. So, I walked over to the bodega. It was open, but nobody was there. I called out, looked around, and heard a noise in the back. I went to investigate, and found this door with a mail slot in it. In the slot was a person's face, looking out at me. And it was Eddie Murphy. He was mad. Like crazy mad. And chaotically magic, like a character in Alice in Wonderland. He yelled at me some nonsensical rhymes, then somehow morphed and oozed through the mail slot, with a clear intent of malice As he oozed, I began to shrink. Then Eddie Murphy and I had a big battle, crashing about the bodega. Somehow, I managed to escape, and made it back to the theatre. By the time I got there, the show had started and I had missed the first act. Paul Reiser was there, and we started talking about the show, which was about people dealing with the aftermath of school shootings. I tried to tell him how I knew some folks who had lost family in shootings, and started to cry. Then I woke up.

No idea what that's about other than waiting, chaos, unfulfilled hope, and sorrow.

So, sometime soon, we here in Colorado are set to do a sort of semi-re-opening of some business. Nobody is sure what it means, when it will be, if it will cover all of the state or if some cities and counties are going to stay on lockdown. Most folks think it's too soon, that we need better testing and a lot more of it. Also, it seems like social distancing's goal was to slow the spread, and that seems to be working so far, so a lot of people like me are wondering why we are changing a plan mid-course, when we had already hunkered down. I think a lot of us have forgotten that the original plan wasn't to stop the spread from happening, but to slow it down so we don't overload our hospitals, which would in turn reduce the type of care people can get and lead to more fatalities. A good thing to avoid. I have this horrible vision of us reopening, rates spiking upwards again, and thousands dying needlessly. Most of us are also beginning to feel the pain of jobs either cutting hours our vanishing altogether. And for lots of folks, us included, the vaunted checks from the government have not arrived. And filing for unemployment is difficult at best, especially for people who work several different jobs, with a mix of W2 and 1099 contracts. Which is where most folks who work in the theater land. Myself included. Still, I do not think we should open up so soon, without the ability to test people on a mass scale. What if we do, things go South, and then we have to close up for longer, with even stricter guidelines? Over 50,000 dead already in the USA. Close to a million confirmed American cases, and I have no doubt we will cross that threshold today or tomorrow. If we are already screwed financially (and I think we are) why are we doing this? You would think in a global pandemic that an abundance of caution would be the way to go, but no.

Maybe that's what the dream was trying to tell me. If you go leave your place in line to for something amazing, be it a new show or a healthy life with the ones you love, just to save a few dollars for something you don't even need, you will end up attacked by an angry xenomorph louder than Eddie Murphy, and if you survive, by the time you get back to where you were headed, the parade will be halfway over and you will end up sitting outside weeping as you try to speak of the dead.

Here's a song. It's Money by the Flying Lizards.

THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING IN THE AGE OF CORNA VIRUS

It sort of all feels like the episode that you fell asleep watching of the show you've been bingeing. You meant to watch just one more episode, but couldn't bring yourself to turn it off. Every time you were about to turn off the tv, the next one would start and you'd think "well, just one more". And finally, somewhere past midnight, you nod off a bit. You rewind, try to figure out where you fell asleep. Was it this episode, or the one before? Things look familiar, and some of the plot points makes since, but others are confusing. And who is this new character? So,  the next day you rewatch from an episode you are sure you were awake for at least most of, and continue. And sometimes that's how it feels with the virus. Like I've missed a few episodes. The world still seems like the world, but some of it doesn't make sense, some roles have been reversed, and I'm not sure who the current episode centers on. Is it the doctor who keeps saying we need to at least double our testing? Is it the corrupt leader who is in way over his head, providing comic relief of  a sort, dark comic relief that could be classified as gallows humor? Is this the stand alone episode happening outside of the main events, following a misguided working class grunt who believes his rights are being taken away and joins a protest movement only to end up contracting the disease in the final moment? Will there be a cliff hanger? A season two? If there is a season two, will it change in tone? And if it does continue, how many episodes will I doze through, late at night, only catching snippets of , just enough to be able to join in conversations, but not enough to really know what is happening, where the show is going, or who killed J.R.

Also, is it me, or are there not really an images or footage of what it looks like when a person has it? I don't mean to be grim, but why aren't we being shown the actual effects? Or what it looks like to be on a respirator? I find it hard to believe that all the news outlets just decided "no, that would be too much." We have seen plenty of awful things on our TVs. But not this. We see lots of shots of people in masks, nurses telling chilling stories of patients pleading for their lives, protestors on the steps of capitols toting rifles. But no patients in their rooms. I wonder if their is some sort of law, like the one they had during the Gulf War, that wouldn't allow cameras to record soldiers dying, or their coffins returning home. It is morose and terrible, but it is happening. Death is, after all, part of life. And we don't like to acknowledge it. It almost seems like, if we can just not see it, then maybe it will go away, won't be real, and this will all be a bad dream, and we won't have to feel so bad about not wearing masks as we walk in the park or sneak a visit in at our friends house and ignore the whole six foot thing.

I'll tell you what does seem real to me, in this surreal life. The people we walk by in the early morning, as we walk the neighborhood. Voices of old friends I've been meaning to call forever and finally did. The long, hard laugh we had last night playing Cards Against Humanity with some friends via video chat. The clear skies over the Rockies. All the in home concerts and readings artists keep posting. My dog, who has gone insane but still exudes joy every moment of every day. My wife,  who is there for the good and bad, the exciting and mundane.

One other thing so abstract I can't really get a hold of it is the economy. It just doesn't make sense to me. We are one species, we have some serious problems right now, why is anyone, anywhere, having to worry about paying for medical help? We need everyone healthy, or this thing will keep on keeping on, right? Logic would dictate that, for all of our benefit, we need to help all of us. Stock market? Unemployment rate? Huh?

And I missed the part of the episode with the disinfectant. What happened? I get conflicting stories. Most people think it was this really funny, awful moment. A few tell me it didn't happen. And a few others say it was this sad, ironic moment where we realize how clever ol' Brer Trumpy is, tricking people into thinking he's a moron.

I guess today's main message is: I must watch TV more vigorously.

Here's a song. It's Video Killed the Radio Star, by the Buggles, and was of course the first music video ever played on MTV.

PARASITE BABY

Finally watched the movie Parasite last night. Sometimes, when a movie or book or album us super-hyped by both reviewers and friends, I find my self pushing back. Maybe I want the joy of discovery. Maybe I'm just ornery. Most likely a little of both. And it's silly, because almost every time, once I finally see it, I am glad I did. Either because they were right and it's amazing, or because they were wrong and I can't wait to discuss it with them. So finally, many months after it came out, I took my WGA screener DVD (one of the perks for being in the screenwriters union) which had been sitting in front of the tv since we first got out shelter in place order, popped it in, and watched the movie.

And man. So good. So not what I expected. I knew it was a thriller of some sort, with a political message. Sort of like Get Out set in Korea or something. And in a way, it is. But it's so much more. So funny, interesting, quirky, and exciting. One of those rare movies that grabs your attention and never lets it go. As soon as it was over, I wanted to watch it again. Maybe it's the time we are living in that made me react so strongly to it. I think I would have loved it even if I first saw it in that other world that was my life before the virus. It hits all the buttons, tells a great story, and is never didactic. It is rough, like any good thriller should be. People in this movie do terrible things. Selfish, cruel, insane things. And yet they are all, to a certain degree, sympathetic. While it is about class, about economic desperation and what that can drive people to do, it's not an angry picture, I think. More of an honest depiction of what we are all capable of. And the imagery! So good. There is this one sequence during a huge rainstorm that is so brilliant. it makes you feel like you are dreaming. And like a dream, each movement, each image has meaning and feeling. Some are clear, some instinctual, but all intense. When the movie was over, I felt like I do when I wake from one of my more vivid dreams, or like when I get off one of my favorite rides at Disneyland or out of a truly awesome concert or play: exhilarated, spiritually charged, and full of love for humanity.

I think love doesn't mean you accept a persons flaws or condone their mistakes. I think it means you try to help them be happy it you can, and point out things they are doing that are hurting themselves and others. If you love somebody, you do set them free. Unless they are a serial killer. Then you lock them up. For the everyone's own good, including the killer. Seeing Parasite made me think on that aspect of love and our country right now and our current leader. Because after he made the bizarre suggestion about injecting disinfectant into people's bodies to cure the virus, there was a lot of talk on the internets, and one long post by a good friend of mine on the right about how it's time to love and forgive and not be nasty. Which I totally agree with. I think some of the memes and posts are so mean and crazy it is truly disturbing. Some are just mean spirited and childish. Some are violent, sexist, and/or racist. Most of them don't really encourage any sort of debate or thought. When my friend wrote his post, I made the comment "love is groovy". Which I believe to be true. But that doesn't mean I think we should just give the president a mulligan. I don't think anyone in charge gets a mulligan. They get a long hard look at what they are doing. Lives are at stake, after all. No, we speak truth to power. We just don't be assholes about it. We do it with love, and empathy, and out of a desire to save lives and make the world a better place.

And if they do turn out to be serial killers, we lock them up.

Ok. Here's a song. It's Parasite, by Kiss, from the way way back.

HEY SOUL SISTERS AND BROTHERS

I want to write a letter to everyone's soul. I want to ask it how it's been. What's it been doing since this whole thing started? Has it noticed the elasticity of time, how one day can seem infinite and brief at the same time. I want to ask it what it thinks about opening up the country again, even though it is most likely going to mean more people will die than need to. And what thinks of the response, both locally, nationally, and globally. I will of course ask it about Tiger King. Maybe it has made some funny videos. Or written a blog. Does it howl at 8, or applaud at 7. Does it get cranky. Has it used the time to explore its inner workings. And after all the questions that have almost become routine, I want to ask it to please show up more often. Please. All ours souls are in trouble. Big trouble. This is the big moment, the climatic segment of the movie where the hero has to make that decision, take that action which shows us that she or he has changed, has learned from its ordeal, overcome whatever obstacle it was facing, and is now ready to destroy the one ring and save Middle Earth.

Show up, lost souls, wandering the night seeking solace. Show up and remind us who were are supposed to be. Lead us in dances. Give us the right words to say. Point out our mistakes, gently but firmly. Allay our fears, and boost our hope. Dole out love. Lots of it.

Have you noticed how those who speak with love are easier to listen to? Every day, on social media, and tv, and on the streets, I come across people speaking with love. Love for the world, for humanity, and themselves. You can sense it. There seems to be a grounding to them. A purpose. A desire to be part of this whole thing. And there are also those that speak out of fear. And You can feel that too. There is this nervous energy, a sense of dread, and the possibility at any moment of them lashing out, like someone in a corner and pushed to the brink.

Can you speak to that as well, O Souls of the World? It's a simple concept, I know, but we keep forgetting it. Love helps in every situation. Every single one. I can't think of anything where I would be able to say, "You know, things would be better here is we just had a little less love. That's the main problem, really. All this damn love. You know what we need? A little more fear. That would really get us going in the right direction."

When I howl tonight, I will howl for our souls. Loudly. When I play D&D with my friends tonight, I will do it in part to feed my soul. When I teach my classes online today, I will try and let my students instruct my soul on whatever they bring today. There is so much actual soul food out there. It's everywhere. In each act of kindness, each smile at a stranger, each phone call with a loved on. Each time I walk my dog. Each flower. And it's free. This too is nothing new, but somehow we always forget that. The answer to pretty much all our troubles is free. But we forget to stock up on it.

So Souls, go to the metaphysical Costco or Wal-Mart and load up the car with love please.

If we act out of love, we can get through this. We can figure out an economic system that takes care of us all and let's us live the lives we want to live. It will lead us to ideas that can let the planet itself thrive, with clean skies and pure waters. It will give us better music, movies, and books. And we will even tell funnier jokes, the ones that when you think of the next day make you laugh a second time.

Here's a song. It's Message of Love by the Pretenders. Love to you all.

And, here, as a bonus, one of my favorite things:

FREE WILL ASTROLOGY

WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?

Had a really crazy one last night. There was this virus. It started out in another land. Some people here, mostly scientists and other elites, started to freak out and warn everyone that this was serious, that the virus was going to spread, and could kill hundreds of thousands of people worldwide. But the people in charge ignored the threat. Tried to minimize it. Said it was nothing to freak out about. And a lot of those people knew better, but downplayed it anyway because they didn't want to make it look like they weren't in total control.  They thought the public would turn on them if they said this virus was the real deal and we needed to make a ton of personal sacrifices. As mad as it seems, the people in charge were more afraid of losing power than of saving lives. So they downplayed the whole thing, got their media friends to go along with them, and the people were divided on what was happening.  The virus started to stretch itself over the world. Italy was hit hard and early. As was Iran.  Still those in charge here said we would be fine. That the virus would just disappear, poof, very soon, and all would be well. Then, just like the scientists warned, the virus showed up here. And people started to get sick, and die. Thousands of them. Right here in the good old USA. And the country had to shut down. For the most part. There were pockets of the country not yet hit that resisted shutting down. They were sure they were fine. That the numbers of the dead were being exaggerated by the scientists for political gain. And the disease spread, all over the world, hitting every continent, every country. Everywhere. Strangely, the first thing the people in charge did was to give trillions of dollars to big corporations and banks. They gave the common people a little over a thousand dollars each. But even so, the people in charge still refused to acknowledge just how bad things were. And the leader of the country, live on national television, said he refused to take any blame whatsoever for what was happening. More and more people began to suspect he was either deranged or evil or both. But some people, who had stuck with him for years, could not bring themselves to think that they had been misled. It was just too horrible to be true. So they made up conspiracy theories, and broke protocols about staying inside. And things continued to get worse. And then, just when it seemed like maybe there was a chance of things working, that listening to the scientists was the best route for everyone, those same people in charge decided it was time to open things up. Even though the scientists warned them not to. That it would be a bad idea. That a virus doesn't listen to political speeches or worry about the polls. And that's just what they did. They declared, to the relief of a some and the terror of others, that the tattoo shops and bowling alleys and beaches would be open to the public once more. Even though they knew it would cost lives.

Oh wait.

Just writing the above feels like an out of body experience. Like a description of a really vivid, but
clearly insane dream. A plot to a movie from 1972 starring Chuck Heston. But no. Actually, the movie I keep thinking of is The Poseidon Adventure, where the cruise ship gets hit by a tidal wave in the middle of the ocean and is flipped upside down. Everyone who survives the initial hit try to figure out a way to get off the ship before it goes down. People start to argue about what is the best thing to do. Most want to just sit tight, and do nothing. A few, led by Gene Hackman, decide to do the logical thing, move upwards and get the hell out of dodge. A bunch of other folks think that involves doing something out of their comfort zone, and stay where they are. And of course get killed when the sea water rushes in. The few folks that follow Hackman make their way up, through various hazards. Some die, including Shelley Winters, who sacrifices herself for the greater good- and I don't mean the economy, but peoples lives. Finally they make it out, but only after Gene Hackman dies too. It's a bit of a downer, but those were strange times, full of social unrest, division, and... oh wait.

Here's a bonus song from the movie, with more blog after. It's The Morning After by Maureen McGovern.

Happy Earth Day. I hope you all go out and marvel at this planet we have. It's gorgeous. Mountains and oceans and plains and forests and deserts. Truly a miracle, this giant orb spinning at high speed, circling the Sun in the middle of the vast nothingness of space. Cherish this earth. Serve the garden you've been given. Listen to the scientists about global warming. I think, in light of recent event, not listening to scientists is like not following Gene Hackman when he says "we need to move or we are going to die". Don't take my word for it. Go outside. Look at the sky. Notice how there is less pollution. Notice the color of the trees and grass and flowers or whatever grows where you are. It all is vibrant and happy for the small break from all the pollutants we've been bombarding them with.

Please, when this is over, if you haven't already, give the planet some love. Listen to the scientists. Do the right thing. Spread the love.

Here's a song. It's What Are We Gonna Do by Dramarama.

DAMN THE TORPEDOES (and a small portion of the population)

Ramon, a good friend of mine from college, noted the other day that we keep time now by the death toll. Grim, but true. So many people. And the numbers will continue to rise. I've seen on social media, and in real life, people arguing over the numbers, as if if it were only say twenty thousand dead, that would make it ok. That if maybe only a million people got sick, and only, when it's all over, maybe 40,000 died here in America, then it would be cool to open up on the early side of things. I just don't want to here that. Of course, I do and will, but enough already. People are sick and dying. It's a global pandemic. And we are at the beginning of what will most likely be another Great Depression. No way around it. It seems, if we just said "Hell with it, torpedoes (and a small portion of the population) be damned, we're opening everything back up tomorrow", that we would still be screwed as far as the economy goes. I mean, oil closed yesterday at negative $37 a barrel. Meaning, if you could get to where ever it is they actually sell barrels of oil, you would be given $37 to take a barrel. Kind of tells you maybe things aren't so good in the market. So yeah, we are in for some Hard Times. But we've seen hard times before, as a nation. We had a Civil Freakin' War. We had the Spanish Flu. We Fought World War One, World War Two, and had The Great Depression in the middle. In the grand scheme of things, we, as a nation and as a species, have dealt with some serious shit. And we got through them all.  And, as far as I can tell, we didn't get through all those horrors by having better access to hair salons. Or more beach parties. No, we got through them with love.

I think that's the first ingredient you need to make it. Love. Love of life, of your fellow human being, and of yourself. Once you get Love, you move on to courage. Courage to take care of those things you love, regardless of the cost. And once you find that courage, you bid adios to Fear. And once you do those three things, miracles happen.

Feel free to call me a hippie, a commie, a Californian. I take all those as badges of honor anyway. I
dig it. It's groovy. Not that I am perfect. Far, far from it. Of late, I have struggled with great anger and dismay at what some of my fellow Americans, and global citizens, have been doing. Lashing out at one another. Marching with signs demanding hair cuts, massages, and who knows what else. Not following social distancing, or wearing masks. And then there's the current administration, who seem more and more like a death cult of some sort. Like those mutant people who live under the ruins of NYC in Beneath the Planet of the Apes, who worship a nuclear bomb because, well, they're nuts. It saddens me. So many lost, lonely, angry souls who seem to be desperately clinging to ideas and programs that have clearly failed, on a massive scale.

We are on the brink of a depression because the system has been weakened through greed. Want of money is indeed the root of all evil. Pick a problem in the world, and it almost always comes down to greed. Desire for more, even if it costs others. Some folks think that having more than others sweetens the pot.

Well, fuck that. Those days are over. Time to rise up. As I was taught in high school biology, we must adapt, migrate, or die. We're not quite ready to move to another planet yet, so migrating is out. Death isn't really a desired option, so scratch that. Adaptation is the only option left.

Let's do this thing.

And also, let's keep the post office. It is way cheaper than Fed Ex, DHL, and UPS.


Here's a song. It's the Beatles cover of Mister Postman.

FRAK ME!

Great. It's 9:32 and I'm just starting. Usually, first thing I do is get up, put water kettle on for coffee. (I'm a French press kind of guy, and I like the ritual) While I wait for the water, and then while coffee waits the ten minute before pressing, I write this blog. No filter. No editing. Just whatever comes to mind. But last night, at around 10:00 pm, as we were channel surfing before bed, I happened upon the Battlestar Galactica marathon, which had just started on SyFy. I mean just started. Like ten minutes into the first episode. Well, first mini-series which led to the series. To be clear, I am talking about the reboot that came out in 2004, not the cheesy original from the 1970s, which I watched as a boy and loved but doesn't fare so well with the test of time. The reboot, on the other hand, feels more pertinent than ever. End of the world as we know it. People rising to the occasion. Unlikely heroes. Equally unlikely villains. An examination of a society dealing with unexpected loss and dread. And set in a different galaxy, so there is a bit of distancing so you can concentrate and not break down in tears every moment. Although I have to admit I cried a lot more this time than when I first started watching the series. Something about it was riveting. We set record, said we'd only watch a half our or so. Cut to 1:00 am. Still up, still watching. Too good. Too relevant. But finally, sleep came, and I got about 5 hours. Which isn't bad, these days. But man, when the 6 o'clock alarm rang, I was more than a little pooped. So I set a second alarm via Alexa, and slept for an extra hour. I figure I earned it. But this meant getting up and going on our daily walk before writing. I am cool with that. Mixing up the routine is always worth doing. So here I am, late, but full of science fiction joy.

So. As I watched the show, I realized something. We aren't talking enough about what is happening. How many people are sick. How many people are dying. How long this will probably take. For some reason, when we bring up in conversation- not social media conversation, or texting, or any of those bullshit forms of pseudo-communication, but real, honest to goddess speaking with other human beings, we for the most part don't talk about how truly terrible this thing is. Over 400 people gone past forever here in Colorado, a fairly small state, population wise. Over 40,000 dean and gone in the USA. That's more than the population of Juneau, Alaska. An entire city of the dead. Worldwide, over 160,000 people dead. More than triple the population of Santa Cruz, CA. (it's the city they used in Lost Boys) And over 2.4 million confirmed cases. So far. Things are so seriously fucked I don't even worry about using the word fuck in my blog. Fuck fuck fuck. Not that everyone is being flip about this. I'm fairly certain everyone who has someone who has it, or worse, has lost someone to it, takes it pretty damn seriously. But why are we being polite, at all, in regards to this? I have friends and family who say the stupidest shit about this imaginable- the rates are inflated; it's not as bad as the flu (still!); it's all overblown by the media in a plot to get rid of Trump. WTF? I don't have time for niceties anymore. None of us do.

Okay. Had to get that off my chest. Now, I also want to say, yet again, how amazing a lot of the world is. How brave people are being. How selfless. We all have a job to do, and for the most part, we are doing it. If part of our job is speaking truth to stupid, so be it. There is a bit of moral clarity going on. And that is cool. But to the entitled, the lazy, the willfully ignorant, I have this to say:

Time to get out of our collective haze, to volunteer if we can, to stay home as much as possible, to wear masks when we do go out, to stop letting our insane friends spread their bullshit conspiracy theories. Time to call all our elected officials and tell them we need the Post Office. And universal Healthcare. And a better economic system that protects everyone. Time to grow the fuck up.

I love you all, Very much. I love this world. And I want us to be able, years from now, to all be able to look back in pride at how we handled this.

Onwards.

Here's a song. It's Shake It Out by Florence and the Machine, and I dig it. I hope you do as well.

A TORRENT OF DREAMS

Had a torrent of dreams last night. And most of them involved the theatre. No too surprising, seeing as I've spent most my life in and around theatre. In one, I was watching a production of You Can't Take It with You at a theatre somewhere in California. It was opening night, and an old friend was playing Grandpa. Well, Grandma, as I had switched the sex for this actor. As I was watching the show, I realized I had not set curtain call. In another dream, or another part of that dream, or another dimension/reality that I was seeing, I was casting a play with all these young people in it. Also not surprising as I direct a lot of plays with and for young people. This group was high school age, and the auditions were long. Afterwards, it was time to cast the show. There were about five of us making the decision. We decided on some local rehearsal studio to go do the casting, instead of staying at the theatre, and everyone went to put their headphones on for some reason. Mine got mixed up with the sound designer, who was part of the casting process for reasons unknown but felt totally normally in the context of the dream. I really needed my headphones, and was about to freak out, when we figured it out. And then I went to this apartment near the appointed place, started going over my notes, and met a friend not involved in the casting, and we discussed the song Time by Tom Waits. And that was that. And there were other dreams, too. Sometimes, I wake up and feel like I've returned from a ten year journey through strange lands.

I had a thought yesterday that maybe my dreams fuzziness of late were trying to tell me to write about something other than dreams on this blog. And last night's deluge of dreams seems to back that up. We are living in such a strange time. And in a way, I've been trying to normalize it, to make it palatable. This blog has become the same thing every day. Dream, thoughts on dream, brief commentary on the world, song. I think that is all fine and good, and structure is awesome, but I do think I also have to acknowledge the crazy, which I feel like I haven't done enough of.


I don't think many of us have. I drove by Wash Park yesterday because for the first time in over a
week, I had to go get some supplies. And the park was full of people. I'd say 80% of the folks there weren't wearing masks. People were jogging, riding bikes, acting like it was a usual day off. And it pissed me off. I get the desire and need to be outside, to be near other people. I feel that need keenly, everyday. But suck it up, people. It's been all of a couple of months. Makes me rethink how awful it would be to serve time in a prison. Used to be, if I read about someone getting a couple of years for some crime, I'd think "wow, pretty easy sentence." Clearly, being locked up isn't as easy as I thought. For the most part, just being under this national version of house arrest is more than most of us can handle. And that's crazy. People who claim they want to make America great again can't make the slightest sacrifice in our country's time of need. If they want to make America great, they have to be great themselves. Whining about taking measures that seem to be working in slowing the spread of a deadly disease doesn't seem great. It seems entitled, childish, and foolish.

And complaining about the New Walking Dead feels a bit redundant as well. Not that I won't continue to do so. There is too much at stake to let things slide. I don't want to open up at the cost of people dying. I don't want to lose the post office. I don't want to see us relax the rules that keep our air and water only partially awful. I don't want to ignore science. I just don't want talking about what is going on to become routine, something I do to pass the time.

I want to continue to ask the big questions these times demands. What happens when we die? What happens when we live? Why has it taken a globe pandemic for some of us to realize how badly we have been treating this miracle of a planet that we live on? What have we been doing with our lives? What is truly important? How much can we withstand?

Here's one thing I always felt to be true, that these times have validated for me: Love, Forgiveness, and Acceptance are the only way to get through this world.

Here's a song. Time, by Tom Waits.

FREAK OUT OR SING OUT

Went to Japan last night. In the dream, I was me/not me, and I had taken some students on a field trip to Tokyo/not Tokyo. First, we walked around the modern part of the city, seeing the sights, enjoying a lovely spring day. Then we turned a corner, and were in a section of the city that had been bombed in World War II and had been left in ruins as a sort of memorial. The ruins had been hit by an atomic bomb, like Hiroshima, but were stuck in the middle of this huge thriving city, like the Kaiser Wilhelm church in Berlin. We looked at the ruins, then went to this huge lunch hall. There were tons of people there, some at this huge bar, some sitting at tables. As we were eating, some nut job, who sort of looked the those protesters this week, pulled out a gun and started screaming he was going to kill someone. He grabbed the person next to him, and everybody was screaming. Several cops were already there, and pulled there guns, and it was the classic stand off. Then, one of the police somehow pulled a plumbing line out of the floor, shooting this huge spray of water up to the very tall ceiling. The water had the force of a fire hose. And somehow, the policeman used that water to send an electric shock to the gunman, who got knocked out. And I woke up, as usual, to Padfoot demanding access to the backyard.

I think we are all getting Stir Crazy. And I don't mean the classic comedy with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. We seem to be finding everyone and everything a bit maddening. You can see it in people's eyes, hear it in their voices. We are realizing that this is not some inconvenience that will pass in a week or two, or a month. It's not a long, aimless dream that feels eternal the way dreams sometimes can but will be instantly over once we awake. To use a term I can't stand, this is the new normal, and it ain't going anywhere anytime soon.

Look at those people in Michigan and elsewhere who decided the best thing to do would be to imitate
the zombies of the Walking Dead and stand outside and at windows, screaming and yelling and screaming some more. Or how desperate our Dear Leader tries, night after night, to make it sound like all is well and prosperity is just around the corner. Or the way the smallest thing whomever you are in quarantine with can set you off. It's like that family dinner, where someone is pissed and everyone knows it but nothing has been said yet, and everyone is trying to get to dessert before the big blow up that is for sure coming. Nobody says much. You hear a lot of utensils hitting scraping the plate. Someone tries to tell a joke, there's the obligatory, pathetic laughs, then back to awkward silence and chewing.

Even Padfoot is barking more. And he's a very mellow dog. Maybe we just need to vent, blow off some steam, and continue to forge ahead. And spread the love.

Here's a song. It's Cat Stevens doing If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out. Makes me want to watch Harold and Maude.

BAD PANCAKES

Another hazy dream last night. Something about being in an escape room, but the details are like the facts in a White House briefing these days, fuzzy and wrong. What does this mean? Have I entered some new phase of the Great Shut In? Did whatever I was supposed to learn in all those crystal clear dreams remembered with complete clarity get learned, and now it's off to some new land where I delve into a different aspect of my soul? Am I on another path?

On one level, that would make sense. I do feel different, like I have gained some infinitesimally tiny grain of wisdom. Something about living in the moment, accepting the universe, and so on. But it also doesn't make sense, as I have always had distinct dreams, and have always remembered them. But then again, not all of them. Some remain, some head for parts unknown the moment the alarm goes off. Maybe one of the tendrils of the Great Flux Monster has poked into my skull, creating an escape route for the dreams, and now they're running about, whopping it up, freaking other people out, and spreading a mix of chaos and order.

It could also be as simple as the fact the last night Padfoot needed to go out to pee twice, once around
1 am and again around 3 am. I hate having my sleep disturbed. And he is so annoying when he has to go. He walks around our bed, pants, shakes his head so that his dog collar acts like a miniature cow bell, and then, if those moves fail to rouse me, barks. On top of that, I made pancakes yesterday with some leftover batter that might have started to turn. Lisa had made the batter over a week ago, and it was sitting in the back of the fridge. I didn't stop and taste the batter, or even smell it. There was nothing green growing in it, so I figure it was fine. So, pancakes for lunch. Yay. Lisa took one bite and said she thought they had turned. Defiant and refusing to concede a mistake, I ate both my pancakes and Lisa's. And then felt like terrible for a couple of hours.

Things Change. Not only the title of a great movie written by David Mamet, starring Don Ameche and Joe Mantegna, but a fact of life. And we almost always resist change. You would think we would learn. And we don't resist by trying to take into account the change that has happened, dealing with it and moving forward with that change as part of our world. We try to pretend it never happened. To erase it from the cosmic ledger. And that's usually where the trouble starts.

The pancake batter is bad. Pretend it's still good and chow down. You can insert whatever metaphor you like here about our current global pandemic, our current President, family values, music. Whatever you like. Change, like the virus, is an equal opportunity event, and accepts all takers. Hell, it accepts all non-takers too.

One change that happened yesterday that I am not fond of is we finished The Great British Baking Show. I always hate coming to the end of a first watch of a good series, the final chapter of a good book, the last good bye of a great party. But what can you do? Act like Xerxes, and lash the sea? Xerxes was the Persian King who invaded Greece, who most of us know from the cartoonish movie 300. According the historians, after a storm washed away some pontoon bridges his army was using to cross some straits, he had his soldiers lash the sea 300 times. Can you imagine that? A world leader having a temper tantrum and trying to spank the ocean?

Xerxes, by the way, was a descendant of Cyrus, the king a lot of people on the religious right compare to Trump- not of their faith, but good for their agenda.

Well, it's time to rise up, read, Zoom, write, walk, experience, cook, eat, love, laugh, play some D&D, sleep, and dream.

Here's a song. It's Can't Happen Here by Rainbow, which seems appropriate. Oh, and before I forget to mention it. If Trump ever does adjourn Congress so he can do whatever he likes, I plan on going out and throwing rocks through windows and I don't know what else. Hope you all feel the same.

PEARLS OF MADNESS

No dreams to report today. Just walked into a fog bank somewhere in the middle of watching the Great British Baking Show, and arrived here. It happens. And I don't want to bullshit here. Not when over 30,000 people in the USA are dead from Covid. How the hell did that happen? Well, I suppose doing not much of anything on a federal level since it began helps. How many people who knew better, or should have known better but either didn't or didn't care, shrugged it off, said it was no worse than the flu, and poo-pooed the whole thing? And how many of those folks are now saying things like "it's over-reaction", or "we need to go back to work be allowed to play tennis"? I actually read the tennis one on a thread on Facebook. Tennis. I'm hoping the guy was joking, a subtle master of irony, but given the tone of the entire thread, I doubt it. I also have a distant relation who keeps reposting these angry memes going on about how this is the greatest hoax in the history of the world, something the media has perpetrated to bring down Trump. I usually don't respond to his posts, but sometimes, it get to me. None of it makes sense, and I think what is freaking out people, sadly, isn't the death toll, but the election polls. I wonder if there were people in the Middle Ages running around going "This is all a hoax, thought up by heretics to bring down good King John!".

I don't want to dwell too long on it, but I wonder. What is wrong with these people? Are they trying to understand this as best they can, using the tools are most familiar with: prejudice, jingoism, and rage? Do they truly believe a cabal of journalists got together and said, "Well, we've got to get rid of this Trump, who is so great. What can we do? Hmmmm. Got it! A new global pandemic. We'll make the whole thing up, and inflate the numbers of the dead and dying, and get Pelosi and all our fellow evil lefties to really make it sound bad."?

Ok. That's enough of that, for the moment. But don't think I am done. We do have an election coming up, and I don't want anyone, anywhere, in office who didn't do what was right concerning Covid. By right, I don't mean making perfect decisions. I mean not being in denial. Not deferring to a President who is clearly more concerned with image than substance. Not waiting to declare shelter in place.  How many lives could have been saved in we had acted sooner? A thousand? Two thousand? More? Enough. No more nut jobs. No more assholes in office. That's it. That's the slogan for 2020.

No More Assholes.

But enough of that. It's a rabbit hole of acrimony that does me no good. I am all about being engaged, but I'm trying to avoid the noid, keep on the sunny side, and focus on what is possible moving forward.

I've been watching, among other things, BoJack Horseman on Netflix. People had told me how
funny it was, how ground breaking, how smart and insightful and amazing. And I politely smiled and went about my business. But Wow. It's so good. So funny, ground breaking, smart, insightful, and amazing. Last night I watched this episode where the main character goes on this self-destructive binge full of drugs and madness that was both hilarious and heartbreaking, and quite entertaining. I think you always have to have something to keep people entertained, or they will change the channel. Push the boundaries, yes. Ask tough questions, of course. But always keep them leaning in. Then you can do whatever you want. It's like the old quote from George Bernard Shaw, "I open their mouths with laughter, then drop pearls of wisdom down their throat." Which now that I write it down seems a little rapey and weird. And Shaw can be dry as toast sometimes, but I think that has more to do with people doing bad versions of his work.

Ok. I got scripts to write, chores to do, projects to complete, and a world to try and experience as best I can. Gonna try and listen to more music today. Get more reading done. Tell better jokes. Not post memes.

Here's a skit. It's the classic Bring Out Your Dead bit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a scene I once re-enacted for my English class in Seventh grade with some of my fellow nerds. It went about as well as you can imagine.

https://youtu.be/QcbR1J_4ICg

ANYBODY ALREADY SPEND THEIR CHECK?

I feel a bit underwater this morning. Maybe it's the snow, that arrived yesterday after a week of full on Spring weather. Maybe it's fatigue from all this. Maybe I ate too much sugar with our Easter dinner last night. Carrot cake. That's it. The carrot cake blues. Or oranges. Or it's just the cobwebs that always fill the air first thing in the morning. Also, I slept in a bit later than usual, which always adds to the morning grog. Even by describing it, the feeling starts to go away, the sun comes out, and I try to connect. Don't get me wrong, it still feels insane and all that, and I know we have crossed the Rubicon of normal and are in a strange new land never to return to our old lives in quite the same way. We are different people. Still, some things remain, and for me, one of those things is needing a bit of time and coffee to wake up.

So, did I have weird dreams again last night? Of course. First, I was home, upstairs, and I looked out the window, and all of our furniture and belongings were on the street, and about to be sold by the bank. To make matters worse, some of the people hauling all the stuff out were playwriting students of mine. I ran outside, yelled at them, told them they had bad jobs and that they had no right to sell our stuff. The woman in charge, whom I didn't know, said they were just anticipating us not having money soon, and were taking precautionary measures. I freaked out, said a lot of bad words, and got all out stuff put back inside. Then we had some kind of Open House, and entertained our neighbors. And the people who were trying to sell our stuff stayed and had snacks. Then I woke up, at 3am, because my dog Padfoot needed to go outside. Usually he sleeps through the night. Not anymore. I don't know if he is just picking up on our anxiety, or getting older and needing to pee more often, but there it is. Had a second dream where I was remounting a Harry Potter show at one of the schools I teach at. We were doing an immersive version, using the school as the set, and having the audience be walking around Hogwarts, and there was this one scene we were trying to figure out which had the kids running in from the schoolyard and into the class room, joining a scene already in progress. Getting people from the outside to be in sync with the inside was proving impossible, and tempers were flaring. The sound designer in particular was freaking out. The kids, of course, were having the time of their lives, and trusted we would figure it all out. And I found solace in that. So there are my two big dreams from last night- fear of losing everything, and hope for the future. Sort of how things are these days.

Speaking of which, today I get to have the joy of navigating the IRS website to make sure our bank info is there so we can get our little checks, which are already spent. What are we going to do next, as a country, in terms of finance? More and more people are out of work, behind in their bills, and stuck in their homes. Even if Merlin waved his magic wand and somehow it was all lover right now, most of us would be in a bit of a pickle, with no money in the bank, and the hounds at our doors. I don't think just giving over a trillion dollars to the financial markets and less than a months worth of money to us working folk is going to get us through this. Why is it that Canada and Germany and all those commie-pinko-socialist countries are able to take care of their people, but not us? Right now, it is hard to see or even feel the effects all that much, being cooped up in our homes. But what happens come Summer, when we are let out of our cages and find ourselves in a second Great Depression? Things will have to change. I am a great believer in the adage "Necessity is the Mother invention." And it will be necessary to changes things. So buckled up, folks, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Here's a song. It's Mother Necessity from School House Rock.

And for those who like things a bit more blunt, here's the Dead Kennedys with Kill the Poor.

 

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Another dream with Trump in it. Aside from the obvious reason that he is the so-called leader of the quarantined world, I think he was in my dream because in some ways he reminds me of my stepfather. In the dream, I was working at a summer theatre school, a place that did both full shows, but also taught classes to young people. It was all at a campus of some junior college, and we were getting ready for our first show. I was directing, and Trump was in the show. And he was not doing a good job. He kept showing up late, forgetting lines, and harassing the other actors, telling them they weren't any good, giving them notes on their performances, and so on. This kind of thing can happen at a theatre camp, so it wasn't too surprising. What was a drag was that I was told that I couldn't replace him, which is the normal thing to do once you have tried all other options with an actor. In the dream, if he left the show, something terrible would happen. It wasn't said what that would be, but we all knew it would be horrific and a large scale. So we were all at the mercy of this bad actor with an attitude problem. We were rehearsing a scene, and Trump kept breaking character to complain about things: the script; the other actors; the set. Blame was something he handed out like candy to everyone but himself. Over a three hour rehearsal, we didn't get further than two pages of script because of him. And the worst part was that, when he would yell out "cut" or "hold", we would all have to sit there and act like what he was doing and saying was perfectly appropriate and helpful, as opposed to a waste of time that was hurting the show. This is where he reminded me of life with my stepfather, who had a big drinking problem. When you are the child of an alcoholic, you learn quickly how to read a persons mood, to watch every facial expression, hang on every word. I have heard many times that people who grew up in alcoholic households, as well as theatre people, are the best natural lie detectors, because in both instances you are a keen observer of human behavior. So I'm a double threat in that department. Anyway, Trump was going on about how he was a great actor but the script was making him look bad, how the other actors were terrible, and how he refused to wear his costume because it made him look fat. And then rehearsal was over. A lot of the cast went to get a bite to eat and talk about the show. I joined them. And that's when one of the young ladies on the stage crew told me that Trump had tried to force himself on her. And I realized that I was working with not just an egotist man-child, but a socio-path. There was no way to continue, and we would all have to suffer some terrible fate because of this guy.

What are we going to do now? We are all doing the best we can to create happy lives, meaningful experiences to fill our hearts and souls with joy, and along comes this gigantic, planet sized threat, and we are stuck with a weak-willed bad actor who can't memorize his lines, blames everyone else for his short comings, and insults the people who are trying to make things work, making their jobs more difficult. And it feels like we are only at the start of rehearsals, that point where nobody is quite sure if this was the right show to do, if the casting makes any sense, or if the director is sane. But we have all signed our contracts, and all the other shows in town have been cast and crewed, so we are stuck and will have to muddle through somehow.

The good thing about being in a show that is rough, is that it can make for some of the strongest friendships you will ever have. When you are in a show, you depend one hundred percent on every person you are working with, from front of house to make up to lights to costumes to props to stage crew to creative team to playwright to actor. Even if you can't stand a person, when you are on stage, you have to work together, or go down in flames. And I think we are going through something akin to that now. We are all trying to work together while facing the impossible. And this time will bond us as we move forward. I can see a time when those of us alive now will sit around family meals and start to talk about the days of the Corona Virus, and the young will roll their eyes and think "here they go again".

Well, time to lower the curtain on today's entry, as I have classes to teach, a long walk to take, and a script to work on.

Here's a song. It is, of course, Saturday Night by the Bay City Rollers.

FINALLY FRIDAY

Dreamt of cars, the Empire State Building, and being buried alive. The cars one was strange. I was, for reasons unknown, staying at this low rent place kind of Air BNB, run by this strange pseudo-working class guy. It was in a small town near a race track. There was a main building that looked like it used to be a farmhouse, and lots of other little houses, a picnic area, a kitchen area with out door seating above a garage, and a race track not too far from there. The race track was for local stock car racing on dirt tracks. I was undercover for some reason. On the road and moving around the country like Sam and Dean in Supernatural, who use fake names and hunt down monsters and demons. Only I wasn't sure what I was hunting. The owner had a son, about ten, who seemed sad. The son was a latch-key kid, and said he never saw his dad that much. The kid was sent to school, and then the owner told me how there was a serial killer in the area, and he was pretty sure the killer had been outside the house watching him. The next day, I woke up at the same place, and there were hundreds of people outside, getting food, hanging out, all there to go to some monster truck kind of thing at the track. I went up to the restaurant, hungry and wanting breakfast. Some new guy in the dream who seemed to know me led me to the front of the line at the restaurant, where they were serving green chile, had them give me a big bowl of it, and then led me to a table. He was like the manager of the place, and told me not to mind the owner and his crazy talk about the killer. Then he told me he knew who I was, and that he too was a writer, and had a book he wrote about being having a father who left him when he was a little boy. I asked him if it was autobiographical, and he said no, which I found strange. Why write about what you don't know? Then I woke up, and as is usual these days, I thought to myself "got to remember this for the blog".

Then I fell back asleep, and dreamt I was on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, which is one of my favorite places in the world. Ever since I was about five and watched the original King Kong on Creature Features, I wanted to see the Empire State Building. On Halloween 1990, I took my first step in NYC, and there she was, tall and magnificent in her Art Deco splendor. My first apartment there was right down the street, on 33rd and Third, and I could go to the roof and gaze at her and contemplate life as a starving artist, which I did. Often. Anyway, I was on top of the building, and the deck was crowded, and everyone was talking about the Corona Virus. How nobody really knew what would happen next. And then, one by one, people started climbing over the protective guard rails and jumping off. And I woke up, and again thought "remember this for the blog". Padfoot, who had already gotten up in the middle of the night to perform his outdoor ablutions, was looking at me and making strange noises, so I let him out again, then went back to sleep.

And dreamt I was in a coffin, about to be buried alive. As I could feel the coffin being lowered, I woke up. And of course, thought "Remember for the blog!"

And I didn't even watch any news last night. We did, however, have along video chat with one of our friends, talking mostly about fun things, like Supernatural and favorite episodes and scary movies and whatever else came to mind. We talked about Jaws, and how she won't let her daughter watch it yet because she doesn't want her to become scared of the ocean. I told her how I had seen it when I was nine, and while it scared the crap out of me, it didn't make me more frightened of the ocean, because the ocean was already huge and mysterious and full of the unknown. I didn't need a movie to make it scary to me. I still loved it, and would swim in it every time we drove over the hill to Santa Cruz. But there is something about the ocean so huge and powerful and mostly hidden that, for me at any rate, is fearsome and not to be trifled with.

Speaking of trifling with large things, I have noticed of late more and more people who lean to the right politically trying to imply that the numbers of those who have died from Covid are somehow inflated, that the CDC guidelines are letting doctors falsely claim that people who die of things like car crashes or heart attacks are dying of Covid. Usually, this will then veer into the evils of the mass media, how there are empty hospitals in NYC, and so on. I suppose this must be a hard time for people who have supported the current administration. We are so screwed right now, and it feels like a lot of where we are at is due to mismanagement and a lack of preparation in January and February, coupled with a continuing lack of leadership. And we all know it. All of us. It just must be terrible to think you voted for a guy who is so clearly out of his league. So they try to rationalize, to lessen the blow by saying the numbers are inflated, which to me is both sad and awful. I mean, does it help them to think only 10,000 people have died in the USA as opposed to 15,000?

We can and will do better, and we are going to need to find a way to forgive each other for so many things, for ignoring the danger, for not social distancing earlier, for acting like jerks to our spouses and room mates or whomever we are quarantined with.

And that will be healthy. Forgiveness and acceptance are two things that have helped me my entire life. I fail at them often, but whenever I remember those two simple ideas, I am a better, happier, more productive human being. And I love being happy.

OK. Let's go out and forgive, accept, take no bullshit, speak our truths, dance our dances, howl when it feels right, wear masks in public, and figure out what we can do to make it better, for ourselves and each other, for a better world.

Here's a song. It's "Finally Friday" by George Jones.

https://youtu.be/yDiC7dGzT0g

THURSDAY

Last night, dreams were mostly mundane, neither serene nor apocalyptic. The main one I remember is me having a long talk with my nephew about getting a job, paying debt, and figuring out how to do all those things. He's all of twenty, and recently moved from one coast to the other, and I love him dearly. It was a quiet dream, and I did most of the talking, which was weird. Usually in my dreams, I am tossed about like a piece of driftwood, and when I speak it is in reaction to something that has or is happening. But this was all must my, of my own volition, giving financial advice to my nephew. And it didn't even wake me up. Of late, my dreams have made a point of waking me up at least once in the night. But I slept right through to just a few minutes ago, when my dog made his "I need to pee" semi-bark.

Finance. What a dull subject. I usually don't like thinking about it all that much. But that has changed. Less work, more and more people losing jobs. At least several more weeks of being in our national quasi-isolation with walks, howling, social distancing, and many many many Zoom meetings. We are more fortunate than some, less fortunate than others. Average. And what is going to happen to us? To all of us? What if this goes into the summer? What if more and more jobs evaporate? What if our economy, under the unsteady leadership we currently have, tanks? I've seen the words global depression on more and more headlines, and I don't think they're talking about sorrow. I mean, how many of us are very much anxious for our little one time checks to arrive? How many of us have already spent them? We must rethink how we are doing things, both in the nation and in the world. Last fall, Andrew Yang's universal basic income idea seems a bit nuts. Now it seems like the least we should do. In the best of times, economic inequality seemed like a bad idea. Now it feels like a crime against humanity.

Put another way- the powers that be have let us all down, in almost every conceivable way. Global pandemic ravages the world, sending us hiding in our homes. The environment was getting so bad that, now, thanks to this plague closing factories and keeping cars parked, people in India can see the Himalayas for the first time in thirty years. Most people I know- and I bet you're the same- live paycheck to paycheck, with at best a month or so of savings to cover bills if something should come up.

Something to come up.

Like, oh I don't know, Corona Virus?

Or as I prefer to call it, the Trump Flu.

Here's what I want, my Five Pillars for a New World.  First-: freeze mortgages, rents, student loans for everyone. For six months. This will give us all time to figure things out. Second: forgive all tax debt for anyone making under $100,000 individually, or $200,000 as a couple. All of it. Third: eliminate the tax breaks given to the super rich and corporations. Being extremely wealthy in a time like this comes with obligations. And if they say "jobs will go away if we do that", tell them to look around, smell the coffee, and grow a soul. Fourth: rejoin the Paris Agreement on climate change. The world is already taken apart, when we put it back together (and we will) let's do it in a way where we stop killing the planet. Fifth: Universal Healthcare.

Also, please federalize the response. Now. Please continue to support testing for the virus. How can we know who is sick and who can go back to work and who should stay home if we can't all be tested? And if you own stock in a possible cure, come out front and say so.

Oh, and let's make it a felony to lie, obfuscate, or do anything for personal gain at the expense of the population in regards to this disease. I want investigative panels, like we did during and after World War II, that deal with such criminals. And no immunity for anyone, regardless of office. You do the crime, you do the time.

OK. Now a few happy thoughts. Last night, played Dungeons and Dragons with my wife, my brother, and my sister. It was awesome. Just playing a game, chatting, laughing, spending time together. Also, we grilled some burgers in our back yard for the first time this year. And they were awesome. While I do want things to change, the joy of BBQ in the back must remain. Also, new script has taken a turn, and I like it. I don't know what is going to happen in regards to film and tv work after all this, what people will want and what state the entertainment industry will in after the Duration, but I know I am writing something that I enjoy fills my heart. And best of all, a few old friends who have been sick seem to be on the mend. Not all of them. But some. And that is a good thing.

Today, I think I am going to call my senators and representative and let them know what I think. It is still a democracy. They still have a job. I am still a citizen.

OK. Here's a song. It's Thursday, by Jim Croce, and I like to think of it as a song sung by America to our current despot.