I don’t know if I count as “fortunate.” Two people who were real parts of my life, people who hold spaces in my heart and my mind, have died of COVID. I live down the block from a hospital which, until about three weeks ago, had two refrigerated morgue trucks outside the tents it erected to handle ER visitors. And until this week, one morgue truck remained.
I think I am fortunate: while people I know have died, no one I love has died.
If we handled the arrival of COVID badly in my neck of the woods – and we did – we seem to be doing ok now.
This is new cases, by me:
Not great. But ok. New cases are on the order of 5-600/day. Which means, I think, that something like 5-10 people/day will die of COVID in 2 or 3 weeks from now.
The rest of this godforsaken country? It’s a fucking shit show.
I, finally, am allowing myself to feel just a glimmer of optimism about the future. I’ve taken the subway, a dozen times or more, and I feel safe. Honestly. Safer than I do in the bodega. That will change as more folks return to work. But. I think – at least in my neck of the woods, where we understand that a) this motherfucker will kill you, and b) there are pretty simple ways to stay safe – we kinda are in a good position.
All we have to do is keep the rest of the country out.
And, in the mean time….
And, we have to get rid of the motherfucker-in-chief.
I’m no Republican, but I just gave these people a bunch of moolah. They are doing the best job of anyone I see at taking down Trump the only way he will be taken down: by rebranding him.