not great, Bob
Mar. 30th, 2020 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brandywine28(The icon isn't relevant, I just like looking at it. I'm taking my comfort wherever I can these days.)
Greetings from THE EPICENTER(tm)!
That's what De Blasio keeps calling it -- the epicenter. It's a little melodramatic for my tastes, but the numbers don't lie. One third of all U.S. cases, right here in my very own city! Four thousand in this borough alone! Elmhurst hospital is a mile and a half from my apartment and thirteen people died there last Wednesday. More since. Math!
In five to ten years, if humanity survives, I like to think there'll be a tacky, explosion-filled action-thriller called The Epicenter, and it'll include a scene where Brad Pitt has to barricade himself inside a deserted Queens Center Mall while the sick claw at the doors. And maybe, for the big finale, he impales, I don't know, Anthony Weiner or someone with the sharpened end of a Mets pennant, then looks into the camera and says something quippy?
I'd pay to see that. Hell, I'll direct it, if Michael Bay is busy.
(Segueing into listicle format, 'cos I'm not sleeping and my brain has gone sour and list-making is the best and most soothing of all pastimes. The sport of kings, if you will.)
-- It's been nearly a week since my last full-fledged panic attack, so I'm counting that as a win. And it turns out I fall into that very particular sweet spot where I'm non-essential, but also somehow non-laid off. Another win.
-- Which has been hard for me to process, in all honesty. To not be among the first and hardest hit at a time of peak worldwide badness. To be safe, more or less. It's not survivor's guilt. It's just...disorienting. Not the way things are meant to work.
-- Anyway. The panic attacks. They're a new thing, and I do not care for them. I think Hugo's aware I'm having them. He's not the clingiest cat I've ever had, but he has this thing he does when he wants to show me he's pleased with me: he sits next to me and presses his little butt against mine as hard as he can. I call it butt-on-butting, and lately, we've been doing it about eighteen hours a day.
-- Meanwhile, my mom turned to me the other day and said, "I just feel like, even if I did catch the virus, I'd be one of those people who just kind of...gets over it. Y'know?" No, mother, I don't know, and the only reason I'm not being arraigned on murder charges right now is that I didn't have anything particularly weapon-y in my hand at that moment. That's it. The sole reason.
-- So, like I mentioned up above, I'm not getting any sleep, and it's making me foggy and robotic and extremely boring. I nodded off yesterday in the middle of applying lip balm. Conked right out with the stick just mashed up against my chin. I was out for a minute, tops, but I feel like that one minute was a pretty accurate summary of the last two and a half weeks of my life.
-- I...think I may be attracted to Andrew Cuomo? I wonder how he'd look in silver glitter pants...
-- I'm still shaving my legs and keeping my eyebrows in check! (So far.) They haven't taken that away from me! (...so far.)
-- I haven't hoarded a thing, but I did buy a vibrator. I'm not sure what that says about me and how I handle a crisis, whether I'm doing a good job or a terrible one. I just know it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Felt correct.
-- The boarded up murder apartment a few doors down from mine is still boarded up, still murdery. No one goes in or out. But the other night, when I was taking out the garbage, I thought I heard, like, very faint jazz noodling coming from inside? So: jazz ghosts. Awesome. A great way to spice up my quarantine.
-- Last night, I spent one of my few, precious hours of sleep dreaming that I was sitting on my couch, watching an absolutely gruesome episode of Dateline. It was about two Broadway actresses who died onstage; they were hooked up to wires, pretend-flying a la Peter Pan, when they crashed together in mid-air and the audience was showered in blood and body parts. It was an accident -- or was it?? Dun, dun, DUN!!
-- There's a multi-fandom, h/c fic-a-thon going on here with a lot of great prompts and not enough responses, and I keep thinking my fic brain'll switch back on in time for me to contribute something. Anytime now, fic brain.
-- It seems I have become a webcam creep, which I think is probably the modern version of Jimmy Stewart in that movie with the binoculars? But -- can you blame me? Check out Fifth Avenue! Check out Times Square! (Check 'em out during rush hour for maximum freakiness.) I can't stop staring in morbid fascination. My city! She is desolate!
So...how's everyone else passing the time? Got any anecdotes? Media recs? Deep, soulful wisdom? My inbox is open!
Greetings from THE EPICENTER(tm)!
That's what De Blasio keeps calling it -- the epicenter. It's a little melodramatic for my tastes, but the numbers don't lie. One third of all U.S. cases, right here in my very own city! Four thousand in this borough alone! Elmhurst hospital is a mile and a half from my apartment and thirteen people died there last Wednesday. More since. Math!
In five to ten years, if humanity survives, I like to think there'll be a tacky, explosion-filled action-thriller called The Epicenter, and it'll include a scene where Brad Pitt has to barricade himself inside a deserted Queens Center Mall while the sick claw at the doors. And maybe, for the big finale, he impales, I don't know, Anthony Weiner or someone with the sharpened end of a Mets pennant, then looks into the camera and says something quippy?
I'd pay to see that. Hell, I'll direct it, if Michael Bay is busy.
(Segueing into listicle format, 'cos I'm not sleeping and my brain has gone sour and list-making is the best and most soothing of all pastimes. The sport of kings, if you will.)
-- It's been nearly a week since my last full-fledged panic attack, so I'm counting that as a win. And it turns out I fall into that very particular sweet spot where I'm non-essential, but also somehow non-laid off. Another win.
-- Which has been hard for me to process, in all honesty. To not be among the first and hardest hit at a time of peak worldwide badness. To be safe, more or less. It's not survivor's guilt. It's just...disorienting. Not the way things are meant to work.
-- Anyway. The panic attacks. They're a new thing, and I do not care for them. I think Hugo's aware I'm having them. He's not the clingiest cat I've ever had, but he has this thing he does when he wants to show me he's pleased with me: he sits next to me and presses his little butt against mine as hard as he can. I call it butt-on-butting, and lately, we've been doing it about eighteen hours a day.
-- Meanwhile, my mom turned to me the other day and said, "I just feel like, even if I did catch the virus, I'd be one of those people who just kind of...gets over it. Y'know?" No, mother, I don't know, and the only reason I'm not being arraigned on murder charges right now is that I didn't have anything particularly weapon-y in my hand at that moment. That's it. The sole reason.
-- So, like I mentioned up above, I'm not getting any sleep, and it's making me foggy and robotic and extremely boring. I nodded off yesterday in the middle of applying lip balm. Conked right out with the stick just mashed up against my chin. I was out for a minute, tops, but I feel like that one minute was a pretty accurate summary of the last two and a half weeks of my life.
-- I...think I may be attracted to Andrew Cuomo? I wonder how he'd look in silver glitter pants...
-- I'm still shaving my legs and keeping my eyebrows in check! (So far.) They haven't taken that away from me! (...so far.)
-- I haven't hoarded a thing, but I did buy a vibrator. I'm not sure what that says about me and how I handle a crisis, whether I'm doing a good job or a terrible one. I just know it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Felt correct.
-- The boarded up murder apartment a few doors down from mine is still boarded up, still murdery. No one goes in or out. But the other night, when I was taking out the garbage, I thought I heard, like, very faint jazz noodling coming from inside? So: jazz ghosts. Awesome. A great way to spice up my quarantine.
-- Last night, I spent one of my few, precious hours of sleep dreaming that I was sitting on my couch, watching an absolutely gruesome episode of Dateline. It was about two Broadway actresses who died onstage; they were hooked up to wires, pretend-flying a la Peter Pan, when they crashed together in mid-air and the audience was showered in blood and body parts. It was an accident -- or was it?? Dun, dun, DUN!!
-- There's a multi-fandom, h/c fic-a-thon going on here with a lot of great prompts and not enough responses, and I keep thinking my fic brain'll switch back on in time for me to contribute something. Anytime now, fic brain.
-- It seems I have become a webcam creep, which I think is probably the modern version of Jimmy Stewart in that movie with the binoculars? But -- can you blame me? Check out Fifth Avenue! Check out Times Square! (Check 'em out during rush hour for maximum freakiness.) I can't stop staring in morbid fascination. My city! She is desolate!
So...how's everyone else passing the time? Got any anecdotes? Media recs? Deep, soulful wisdom? My inbox is open!
no subject
Date: 2020-04-03 12:29 pm (UTC)Hugo's butt is small but powerful. A butt of miracles!
:)
There are Schitt's Creek prompts! And one for Dina/Garrett from Superstore that I have to believe was fated to be mine because I don't know anyone else who even ships them!
I can't believe someone out there knew just what I needed to see this week and it was KEVIN FREAKING RICHARDSON.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-03 01:15 pm (UTC)I hope you're writing for the prompt right now as I want to read it! I watch the show but have never considered checking out the fic, and of course, must now change that. I suspect it may be Jonah heavy.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-04 01:20 pm (UTC)(Also, OMG, I *may* have a popslash Superstore AU languishing in my WIP folder. And I *may* still take it out and poke at it from time to time. Gahh.)
no subject
Date: 2020-04-04 04:11 pm (UTC)*_____*
That makes me very happy!
no subject
Date: 2020-04-07 11:16 am (UTC)