by Joe Almeida
Day 1: November 24th, 2020
I feel like a bacteria trapped in a foreign body – searching for similar strains and a propitious space to divide and multiply.
But, to what end?
Why do I feel compelled to spread my DNA? as if the world will be a better place when it's wrought in my image; as if my thoughts and volition are divined for some higher purpose. I know this is all folly—because I am a mere speck in our cosmological existence—but if I don’t have a raison d’être, why bother with the hassle of proliferating?
What do I owe to my fellow prokaryotes?
The simple answer is, nothing. In order to owe something, there would need to be a debt incurred.
Maybe our Great Creator deserves a tip of the hat, for starting this quixotic chemistry experiment, but que mais? Nada, nem uma pedra.
Day 2
Time seems to move slower while holed away. I have been distracting myself with mindless tasks around the property: stacking wood, tending to plants, and staring at various birds as they go about their business. Fortunately, my family’s house is spacious, so there's plenty of room to move about.
Yet, my family's confinement still weighs on us. We wear masks indoors and avoid close proximity. At times, I feel like I don’t even know these people—who I’ve spent the majority of my life with.
I took for granted all of the affectionate feelings and smiling faces. And as far as plagues are concerned, COVID appears to be on the benign side of the spectrum, but the fear of infection and a two week incubation period have induced widespread anxiety.
Also, I am hyper-aware while trying to fall asleep, bordering on hypochondria: am i running a fever, do i have the chills, does my nose usually run this much, are my lymph nodes swollen?
The mind is a real bastard, but at least my lungs haven’t turned against me, yet. While milling about the house, I stop at random intervals to take a deep breath; sighing with relief as the air passes through effortlessly. Without pain, it is easy to forget how fortunate we truly are.
Day 3: Thanksgiving
The loneliest Thanksgiving of my life. We only have a couple family gatherings per year, so missing one feels like a substantial blow. It doesn’t bother me much, though, because while isolated, I can pour into my reading and writing; plus, who needs friends while surrounded by the greatest literary figures? what's wrong with laughing in a room all alone? Everything.
So far, only my father has symptoms, while the rest of us pace about the house like forlorn spirits. I finished The Lusíads by Camões, and I decided to pick up Angle of Repose by Stegner, instead of 2666 by Bolaño—I figured it would be a good break from the Surrealism and Portuguese poetry spree.
The Book of Disquiet is aptly named. I feel bad for Pessoa—he insulated himself from the world. Inevitably, his disdain for mankind was felt by his friends and neighbors alike, which resulted in a perpetual isolation loop. People talk about learning to sit with silence: to be comfortable in the corner of a room with nothing to do, and no place to be. I can appreciate the sentiment, but there are degrees. It’s one thing to be comfortable with the thoughts floating around our heads, but wholly another to elevate our dreamstate above waking reality. The latter is a curse.
Reality and literature remind us of our mortality, and while fictitious characters created in the mind might be cruel judges of our choices, at least they can be swept aside: we can shoot the annoying adolescent, or, the nagging Russian peasant neighbor; and there won’t be a single drop of blood on our shirts.
Maybe if Pessoa had some video games, he could have unleashed some of his daemons in Grand Theft Auto—instead of staring out the living room window during a beautiful summer day in Lisbon—with storm clouds thundering behind his eyes.
Day 4
I never thought I’d say this, but I’m listening to John Mayer. I watched a video of him getting interviewed at Oxford, and despite looking like a total dumbass, he’s actually a brilliant, chill dude.
Yet, for reasons unknown to me, people have decided to dunk on anyone who doesn't cohere to their worldview. Social media is a 24/7 smackdown, hosted by creatures and nerds of all ages, who use their screens as cover, so they can spew their hate under the guise of anonymity. I mean, sometimes it can be funny, but we’ve undoubtedly crossed the toxicity threshold; “Pull the lever before it blows!”
Mob rule reigns supreme!
I can’t believe my buddy eats Taco Bell’sⓇ Crunchy Taco SupremeⓇ, and I can’t believe that Taco BellⓇ trademarked Crunchy Taco SupremeⓇ.
Day 5
The angst has more or less subsided. I speak with my fiancée on the phone for a little bit every day, and it keeps me in touch with reality. However, I have several aches from sitting too much, so I make a considerable effort to get up and stretch. Every little bit helps, but without a chiropractor, my joints will never be 100%.
The mound of books has been keeping me preoccupied. I love Stegner’s gentle prose—his sentences roll into one another like the golden hills of California. Like Steinbeck, he is able to weave in transcendental themes, but without bludgeoning the reader. All writers should be envious of Stegner’s clarity.
As for Brothers Karamazov: wow. I can’t comprehend how, or why, a friend set it down within the first hundred pages. Dostoyevsky is a prophet, and Brothers K is his masterpiece (at least that’s what they say. The only other writing of his that I’ve read is Crime and Punishment). I’m halfway through . . . Dmitri is in the midst of becoming a great fool, and preparing for an early exit from Earth. It seems that Russian women cast spells on men unlike anything that I’ve come across in other country’s literature. Also, extravagance and drunken buffoonery are tropes among Twentieth Century Russian authors. I’m curious if the United States has an analog to the Russian peasant. And, is "peasant" a diminutive term? It gets thrown around rather flippantly, but it seems like the peasants don’t mind the designation—humble living and a healthy fear of God are sufficient for a fulfilling life; there's an absence of desire for societal advancement and shiny objects. I’m too ignorant to make these statements with certainty, and maybe I’m missing the point. It’s conceivable that the term "peasant" is deployed casually for the sake of establishing a class distinction among the characters—a social device to establish hierarchy.
However, it is clear to me that the influence of the bureaucracy in Russia is ubiquitous. Having read what little I have about the period before Lenin’s death—I am aware of the prevalence of their military’s extensive chain of command. Reading about other country’s cultural motivations and ethos makes me reflect on the United State’s current socio-political climate. It seems that the American Dream is dying off, but I’m in a bubble, so there’s a sheen distorting my lens. I don’t know how to revive the Spirit of our nation’s ancestors, but if we don’t implement measures to redistribute some of the massive disparities in wealth inequalities, I fear that the masses will take matters into their own hands.
Day 6
It seems that the severity of COVID was grossly overstated. My father has been cleared by Kaiser after only seven days of symptoms. Of all the people who should have croaked from this “deadly” virus—my dad is at the top of the list—he had every possible pre-existing condition.
Additionally, none of us have any symptoms. So much for being “highly infectious.” We are getting tested in the next couple days, to reassure ourselves, and to adjust our living situation in accordance with the results.
I don’t mean to downplay the severity of the virus—it exists, clearly—but a lot of the earliest information about longevity and transmissibility was grossly exaggerated, bordering on sensationalism. We should continue to wear masks and steer clear of vulnerable individuals, but the idea that COVID could desecrate our species is beyond the realm of reason (barring any drastic mutations).
We need to remain vigilant, because the threat is real, but if there’s anything that I’ve learned from my father’s experience, it’s to take a deep breath and approach the situation with hope. My heart goes out to all of the families who’ve lost loved ones, but we must find the light amidst all the darkness. We need to remain cognizant of the threat, to take proper precautions, but strive to live fully. Until we're in the clear, large gatherings need to be avoided, but we must be human, too: we have to breathe fresh air and allow the sun to warm our spirits.
I fear that the psychological harm resulting from a federally mandated shelter-in-place would be more deleterious than a less invasive approach: face masks, frequent testing, and healthy lifestyle decisions.
