stages, performances, when does the charade end, with the closing of the curtains, and what may beget an encore, if there is one, or intermission even, or a pause of the sun, such as now.
life has felt like an empty cocoon, a purposeless vessel, a vapor womb, these covid years, a strange new vice, a prison perhaps, shuffling about in all the same spaces with new rules put on our places, like saddles and straps on animals we want to do what is right for the rest, to get along, for the road, for now, at least, but the blanket thrown has made things bleak, as week bleeds into weeks, this feels like all one long winter to me, there was a summer in there, somewhere (I think, did I blink?), but this feels like one prolonged indoor throng, we still have the same jobs, well, some, at least I do, the same surrounding cast thereof, maybe this whole experience has just set a giant magnifying lens on things, or maybe these times are as bleak as they seem (less to see on the tour which highlights the banal du jour), grey days, even a light snow brings no sense of joy, just another day bouncing somewhere from 24 to 40 degrees, hard to tell them apart, days are weeks or months, a drag on the soul to a crawl, maybe when the spring returns I might become fulfilled again, free my bamboo trees from the greenhouse fortress I built for months like these, left out and open to the exposed air, branches shooting outstretched, to feel a wild breeze up from knees, the warming, yes, I miss, the warming of the sun, somehow the glare off ice patches or my windshield thatched in the morning is not the same (or even a toasty heated seat), not even a pale resemblance I’m afraid, now, only 5:30pm and the sky is dark, not much of a hue change really, from another grey day, just toned down, I seem to barely remember the sun, how the mind plays drama onto itself, a stage, a play, an improv group romp that relies on past memory but also sudden circumstance, so here I am, one less day, one thrown away, more of my breaths escape into the ether, never to be recovered, at least by me, a known finite number counting down somewhere, in my dna, or karma, or dumb luck, or free will, or the script in a book I am not yet privileged to read. (sigh) days like these make it hard to believe in the light…

notes… as usual I add some other thoughts (yours are always appreciated as well so feel free), so far it is Dave 2, Covid 0…. so yeah, I have had it twice, once before the vaxxes were available, once since, I am personally vaxxed as a promise to my dad who was taken by the virus (one of the early casualties before the vaxxes came out, he fell, cracked his noggin, we took him to the hospital as a precaution and there was an outbreak there (movie style, like ET with plastic tubes and all), dead one week later), I was luckier than most (or many) I did get to say goodbye, in person (suited up like Marty McFly as Darth Vader), not everything I wanted to get out, it all happened so quickly if you know how hospice decisions can just happen in seemingly an instant, he didn’t want to be on a ventilator but his last wish was for me and my brother to be vaxxed, so I did, I would never tell anyone else what to do medically, that is up to you, good, bad or indifferent you (and I) make choices every day, sure, the outcome is eventually the same for all of us so… who am I to judge, and I don’t want to anyway, we will all face the end in our own way, I hope there is more out there, for me and you, my little blog here is hopefully a love letter to that hope… because I truly feel that way…