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: 2020-03-31 08:58 am (UTC)I'm relieved to know that you are still employed - are you distance working or not currently actually doing work? I can totally understand the bewilderment of That Particular Axe Did Not Fall On Me. I'm glad you have a furry friend to be there for you and butt up, which sounds adorable. Panic attacks cannot be fun.
It's odd how the older generation seem to be able not to take the virus seriously. My FIL is aware of it but all the precautions he's taking are because we have told him to (and won't let him out!), not because he thinks he needs to protect himself. He's been healthy for pretty much all of his life (for the last 70 years, anyway), so I suppose he just doesn't think he's likely to become ill, it's not in his experience. I'm amused by your reason for not committing homicide. My daughter and I had a text exchange recently and she assured me that her housemate still lives, which is impressive….
My Beast told me this morning that Andrew Cuomo is doing these updates, and, well, I'm wondering whether there's a mechanism for adding a candidate to the Democratic presidential list, because it seems to me that the man is doing himself a lot of favours. No idea what he's like, but the other prospects seem to be unprepossessing old men well into their 70s, so I would bet cash that if Cuomo expresses an interest they'll practically bite his hands off to get him. Yes? No?
A vibrator may be your best friend. I mean, you can reduce the stress in your shoulders with it, amirite?
It must be *SO* weird looking at empty streets in NYC. Norwich is pretty slow, although yesterday Beast and I walked to the post office and the pavements were, well, not thronging, but there were quite a lot of people out for their daily constitutional. At least three runners among them. But we shopped in the city centre last Monday (aka years ago) and it was freakily empty.
I hear you, too, on the fic thing. In a less horrifying situation, enforced isolation/closeness would be the spur for a thousand fics, and maybe next year that will happen. The 21st century version of the Canadian shack, opposed by enormous amounts of anguished phone sex between separated lovers. I can't write any of it, of course. I *have* started on that part 3 of the Dragon Country series, and indeed, have written a nice set-up opening scene… only, I have no idea what to write next. It is really annoying. This ought to be an opportunity to finish all those stories I have been meaning to write for literally years, but somehow there isn't time, because trying to be normal is taking up a lot of it, and even if there were time, the fic brain seems to have gone into hibernation. Woe.
But, do listen to that Sweeney Todd recording from the BBC! Seriously, it is brilliant, and you can easily supply the pictures yourself. I spent rather a lot of yesterday evening listening to the first half and playing Fairway Solitaire, nicely mindless. I will try to be a bit more Useful with the second half, and maybe finish that textured felt wall hanging that is occupying the dining room table.
*offers virtual hugs*
no subject
Date: 2020-03-31 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-03-31 04:38 pm (UTC)I'm glad Hugo is there for you, it sounds like he has your
buttback.I feel buying a vibrator was an excellent decision.
A h/c ficaton you say....
Well, I just passed some time watching the BSB video of them in sync singing at their homes and amusing myself with the thought Kevin was holding a small multicoloured rampant rabbit. Which obviously he isn't as his kids are there, but even so, the thought remained.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-03 12:16 pm (UTC)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 12:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-03 01:14 pm (UTC)Are you distance working or not currently actually doing any work? Um. A little from Column A, a little from Column B? It's supposed to all A, though, so...that's not great. :)
I've never been crazy about any of the Cuomos, honestly! They're one of those nepo-tastic political dynasties that just -- shouldn't exist. But no, I know I'm not the only one who's been digging him lately. He's got sass! Who knew?!
It's definitely too late for him to enter the 2020 race, which is actually kind of a shame. You're right. He's a lot livelier than Biden and his fans are less annoying than Bernie's. (And omg, now that I'm thinking about it: if he ever does intend to run, he'll probably need a wife first, right? Right?? Even if only for appearance's sake??) (Did I just accidentally write a reader insert RPF fic? I believe I did.)
I've spent the last day and a half listening to sooo much Fountains of Wayne. Adam Schlesinger's death hit me hard; he was the opening act at one of my first ever stadium shows (Smashing Pumpkins, Nassau Coliseum! 1997...I think?) and he made a big impression. I've never forgotten it.
But I am more than overdue for a Sondheim break. I'll be sure to get on that.
<3
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: 2020-04-03 02:03 pm (UTC)I can't say I'm impressed by any American politicians, right now, but *anything* has to be better than the Great Pumpkin. However, if I were a voter trying to choose Biden or Bernie, jesus, I don't think I would bother to vote in that one, just drag myself to the actual polls in November and vote anti-Republican. Back in 2008, I stayed up half the night to see America elect its first Black president, and I stayed up in 2016 as well hoping for the first woman, and was so sickened by it all. This time around I was hoping Elizabeth Warren would make it —she's not much younger than the Bs but strikes me as a hell of a lot more competent at actually getting things done. Alas.
I wasn't actually expecting to go off on a political rant, honest! And a situation that isn't even mine. The government here fills me with such despair... someone described it as, we elected an after-dinner speaker to be Prime Minister, so that's what we've got, dealing with this. That oaf Boris is already getting bored - he has to be serious all the time, and he isn't good at it.
Time for blood and guts and mayhem! Listen to Sweeney Todd! I always imagine the Beadle as a slightly greasier version of Mr Collins from the 1995 Pride and Prejudice. I'll be interested to know if you have some visuals for it.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-04 01:13 pm (UTC)No, please! Rant away! It's good for your complexion! Some days, screaming about Elizabeth Warren is all that keeps me sane. (I love her. I continue to love her. She would've been AMAZING.)
Whenever I see Boris Johnson, I always think he's what 45 would look like if someone freeze dried him, waited twenty years, and then thawed him out with a hair dryer. (I firmly believe it's okay to make fun of someone's appearance if you know for a fact they're rotten on the inside. Which I do.)
That's an excellent visual! I saw the Patti Lupone tuba revival when it was on Broadway a dozen or so years ago; Alexander Gemignani played the Beadle. (I can't believe I remember that! Also, vocally? He wasn't really up to it!)
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)