Day 53: Good news Thursday
The sweet taste of possibility
Yesterday was good news day. Remdesivir might be working. People are probably not getting reinfected. AstraZeneca teamed up with Oxford University on developing a potential vaccine.
Might, probably, and potentially are still the only certainties we know. I am reliving my university days, where I wrote essays in which confidently claimed I completely understood what Wordsworth and Coleridge meant. The only reason I used words like ‘might’ and ‘probably’ (but the thesaurus equivalents, for extra fanciness) was because I wanted to leave some room for interpretation, to indicate my open-mindedness, and also to give my supervisor a chance. We all deserve a chance.
Work happened, three years passed. I can still count the white hairs on my head, which is a good thing. I also ate a lot of pollen, still accidentally. Our Nespresso capsules arrived, as well as my concealer. Both absolute life necessities, to be awake and to look awake. A thought on wakefulness: we may all be characters in someone else’s coma, or a Sims-like videogame being played by a sadomasochist. Does that mean if my balcony finally collapses this will all restart? Will that be a good thing?
Late in the evening, we rejoiced in our music being released as part of a compilation (here, I have a feeling many of you will not like it but I don’t like lockdown and still here I am, so).
When I work out at home I sometimes think of Lester Burnham, the protagonist in American Beauty. He reinvents himself in his garage, by listening to classic rock, doing weights, and smoking weed. Is this not everyone’s (fantasy) life right now? Meanwhile, his next-door neighbour takes creepy videos of him, the rest of his family, and dead pigeons because those were the most interesting things happening in his life. It all sounds strangely familiar. Someone give those pigeons a camera.
If one actually takes lines from American Beauty and reads them out of context, they perfectly match our current reality, in a fascinatingly uncanny manner.
For example, when you start thinking your furniture will attack you: “It’s just a couch.”
And other self-explanatory lines, like:
“I didn’t always feel this sedated.”
“I feel like I’ve been in a coma for the past 20 years.”
“This bag was just dancing with me.”
And, finally:
“I was hoping you’d give me a bath.”
Lester Burnham also spoke the absolute truth, because he stopped caring. There is only one true answer to the question: “What are your workout goals?” Not flexibility, not to be healthier or leaner. His response: “I want to look good naked.” Amen. Though I am still not sure how people would react if we were talking about my physique and I asked them, “You like… muscles?”
It’s a shame Kevin Spacey turned out to be a perv. Potentially.
Lunch: Penne with homemade pesto
Song of the day: Thomas Newman - Dead Already