Thursday Evening Post: 4.9.20

Good things should come from all of this. It most certainly seems a lot like it’ll be the inverse such a statement- but every crisis is an opportunity. Or so has been heard said. And though there will be and already are likely means of malevolence about this yet unseen post-modern predicament our species finds itself in, there lingers within, an inkling that a life better than that what was before is just around this bend. Within me, at least. And all of yew others that might be out there.

I swear, I was just upon the cusp of being more social when this all went down. One of the last nights of open establishments for public consumption of adult refreshments in the town which I newly reside, I was out associating myself with some folk of the area. Local yokels, if you will. Ones I only vaguely know. And some that I had met then and have yet to encounter since.

Of course, most of these folks were of the troubadour type which allows for easier bridged gaps. But there he was, your humble narrator, not sitting alone in his home. I spoke of schemes to get a jam day. A day of gathering for all the musical folk that accept the invitation that I was to offer. A day, in this home of mine, making some racket with near strangers and old friends alike.

But alas, ‘twas not to be. Not yet. Perhaps a blessing in disguise. Perhaps a clocked dagger to my own psyche. Let’s let time do its telling.

Still, more and greater benevolence could be at play on this rock we share. Some, me thinks, without all that much effort. A simple matter of turning attention from the former almost all-consuming superficial attentions, to something more pertinent and genuine. He says, still struggling with the shaking of his own old formed bad habits. Yet onward I would argue, we have an opportunity. All of us. With a healthy dose of willingness. The chance for just a hair more clarity in this human experience. And a chance, to maybe, leave this all better than we found. Even if those who came before couldn’t seem to be bothered with much more than using up all they could get their hands on.

Despite the news consumed the widest, and the stark reality of mortality in an aggressive and viciously focused occurrence- there is a lot of life going on these days. Much of it what we’d deem new, by way of digging itself out from the compost of their own perished former generation, but the burst begins here in the northwestern hemisphere. Spring is upon us. Though not the exact one most of us were planning on.

And if this was the kind of spring you were planning on, allow me the follow up ‘what the *insert expletive*?’

And trust me, I dig the weight of too much self-reflection. It is a company that I had regularly found myself in, and one that could easily lead down the more unforgiving of paths. But options are thin these days. So, staring yourself down in more unavoidable ways is bound to frequent each individual’s existence. Nowhere to go, to hid from ourselves, it seems.

For the time being. At least. This too, shall pass. All things must past. Some other pop-cultre-esque sounding saying. Etc.

And the generally agreed upon reason for this period of emptier streets and such, is to reduce a more wide spread loss of human life. An attempt that would never be entirely successful. But such is the tragedy. All lifesaving attempts eventually fail. Yet according to many metrics of how bad it could go, we seem to be doing much better. And that, without a doubt, belongs mostly towards human effort, of course. Majorities making decisions that help in broader spectrums to reduce a spread (though not all by choice). And each specified minority that works to make efforts in treatment, containment, research, logistics and the regular old manual efforts to keep enough of society running just out of reach of mass hysteria.

I don’t know if I have anything more specific to say. Might be a problem you find yourself in, as well. I do wish there were more of other things to think about. Like some of our pervious metaphorical viruses. Ones that we will have to get to. Eventually. But not this month, I guess. Or at least in a way I have yet to perceive.

Been thinking about a fellow who just died. One that wrote songs about the human condition, in very human ways. A statistic, writing about other statistics, who never can quite see themselves as something so simple as just another stat. Yet here we are. And there we go. Just like that.

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