Wednesday, April 29, 2020

April 29, 2020

April 29, 2020 

Venus is at its brightest tonight, which means that now it will start to fade. The dimming evening star will start to sink slowly each night into the horizon until it vanishes once again from the night sky. 

Venus, planet of love. Does this also mark the peak of our goodwill to each other? Will our love start to fade and sink lower and lower to the ground and then be hidden from our view? 

Once we thought we were the center of the universe. We’ve since learned the universe is expanding - that finding its center has no real meaning. We are in motion, dancing with the stars, the planets, the continents, and our friends as well as our enemies. The center is just a point of view. 

We watch the cycles, the repetitions - the orbit of the plants, the vibrations atoms, and the progress of the seasons. The flowers that bloom, the leaves that fall, the fruit that ripens and then rots. 

Our rhythm was interrupted, the rhythm of calendars and clocks - notifications and alarms. The markings of time we’ve relentlessly scored into patterns we discovered. But there were more severe interruptions. Life and death has its own rhythm, the later inescapable - that alone may make compassion fade, when the lives saved are both unknown and temporary. 

Come June though, the fading Evening Star will re-emerge as the Morning Star and climb again into the sky. Perhaps that will mark our weariness of the cynicism and we can again show our compassion. A chance to make something new, or at least find a new rhythm.



Tuesday, April 28, 2020

April 28, 2020

April 28, 2020 

I was a little more productive today, cleaned the cat fountains, put the month old registration sticker on the car, and even spent some time clearing clutter in my home office to make it a bit more functional. I expect that the moment I turn it into a truly comfortable workspace, “shelter at home” will be rescinded and I’ll be driving into work again. 

Then Again I’m sure my workplace like many others are thinking about just how much office space they really need. Maybe we won’t be coming back - at least full time. 

One possibility I’m hoping to come out of this is the death of the open office concept - all those shared spaces designed to maximize human interaction also great for spreading viruses - Covid as well as others. I also hope this also kills attendance policies that celebrate and encourage perfect attendance - aka the folks most likely to come in sick, wearing their coughs and sneezes as a badge of honor, feeding the billionaires with their relentless “productivity.” 

Anyway, I’m starting to get comfortable with a few things of this new life. I miss human interaction of course, but there are some things I could get used to.

Monday, April 27, 2020

April 27, 2020

April 27, 2020 

Were one to tally up the events of the day, today probably wouldn’t be a good one. I continue to struggle with a writing assignment for work, our toilet clogged, and in the process of trying to break up a food fight between my two pugs my thumb got punctured by one of their canines. I’m sort of done for the day, the to-do list once again mostly undone. 

And yet I managed to get some things together for tomorrow - the dogs’ breakfasts ready to serve (probably in separate rooms), the coffee maker ready to brew the morning pot - my future self is already grateful for the evening’s labors. Tomorrow is wide open. The to-do list stands at ready. Surely I’ll knock a few items off it... 

So optimist, or procrastinator - maybe both - I’m ready for another go. Just let me finish my nightcap.



Sunday, April 26, 2020

April 26, 2020

April 26, 2020 

Today's major accomplishment was making Potato salad. It seem the Weeknd’s have become a time for us to explore the comfort foods of our past. Last week Lisa took on Beef Stroganoff. This week I took on my mom’s potato salad. My mom never wrote down any of her recipes so what I have comes from an oral tradition captured by my nieces in conversations they had with my mom in her kitchen. 

Right from the beginning I got myself into trouble by not paying attention to the amounts of the ingredients. Six potatoes - I saw that after I had cut up the whole bag and put them on to boil. How many where in the bag? 12? 18? I don’t know - guess I should just triple everything to keep the ratios right? If there were 18? 

Honestly, I think this is the way my mom used to cook, knowing sort of what she needed and adding what seemed right - or suddenly remembering an ingredient to add. I did that too as I had to keep moving my salad into ever larger bowls. In the end, I made something decent, which is good since we’ll be eating it for lunch for at least a week, and saw at least one thing to completion - and I’m sure if she were still around she’d be looking on with a combined expression of pride and amusement. Cheers Oma



Saturday, April 25, 2020

April 25,2020

April 25, 2020 

The news of the day is on the beaches of Orange County with an estimated 40 thousand visitors trying to beat the heat and ignore the quarantine. I get it, I’m jealous of them, at lands end taking in both sea and sun. The beach is probably the closest I get to having a spiritual place, a place that puts me in awe, and feel the grandeur of the universe. 

Of course for me, it needs to be night - well after the beach closes in ordinary times. The liminal space between the new day defined by clock, and the actual day’s beginning. That is the time when the beach calls me, to see the moon reflected in the water and the sound unseen waves breaking further up shore. Also deserted and unoccupied - after the police have cleared it an hour after closing. That is the beach I want to visit. 

The heat, the first hint of summer yet to come, has me standing naked from the shower, enjoying the cool of the air conditioning evaporating the moisture the towels have missed. I think of vacations in Palm Springs and how quickly you are dried by the sun after surfacing from the pool. I miss those days of isolating with close friends, never leaving the house, never getting dressed, the constant heat and the never-ending play. 

I get that we are all sharing our isolation, that there is a bond between us, and that our experiences parallel one another’s. Still, that we cannot occupy the same physical space - no matter how personal it’s experience might be - that irks me. So I understand the rush to the beach. I am still jealous of those who went while I stayed home - and while I may be judgmental of their trip, I do it while fantasizing of trips I might have once taken on my own.



Friday, April 24, 2020

April 24, 2020

April 24, 2020 

I’ve been watching with interest fashion photographer Oliver Zahm sheltering in place in Paris. In better times he’d be photographing models on the runway - or better yet, risqué candida at the after parties. Instead he takes his walks to a garden featuring a Maillol nude which he videos and photographers every other day. One can see his profession and obsession played out in this limited controlled environment. On could say it represent his own growing madness over time in isolation. 

And yet I look at my own Instagram feed,our garden, the pugs, and cocktails in abundance. My madness in these times. Honestly, it’s finding beauty in our surroundings, finding something outstanding in the familiar to share - we create our own Instagram museums, as we art direct our environment - at least on Instagram and I presume other image based social media. 

I am enjoying Instagram right now, windows into everyone’s personal confinement, their restricted views, their ways of coping, their pets and their neighbors pets. Again there is this weird feeling of solidarity scrolling through the feeds. We’re all in the together and are probably revealing more of ourselves than we might otherwise. There’s strength in the vulnerability.



Thursday, April 23, 2020

April 23, 2020

April 23, 2020 

We lost our cat, Petra, today - our indoor feral. We “rescued” her 12 years ago when Lisa found her bleeding in the middle of the road. And while she was raised from a kitten, she never really warmed to the human species. Only recently would she allow us to touch her - if we were feeding her French fries. 

We kind of already knew it would end this way. She was impossible to give flea meds, so often went without. She never bonded with either Lisa or myself, rather she attached herself to our other cat, Alister - so we often said that she really belonged to him. Honestly, it’s Alister who’s taken her death the hardest. He’s become super needy and aggressively affectionate - he lost his closest companion and grieves the most heavily. 

Tomorrow morning we’ll take her to the vet to be cremated - one service still available during our shut down. And we’ll spend a little more time with Alister as he gets use to one less cat in our household.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

April 22, 2020

April 22, 2020 

Today I replenished our fluids - water, liquor, and gasoline. 

Water is made more complicated as we drink “sparkling” in our household (we call it “fuzzy”) which was awesome in the first days of the panic as the Trader Joe’s Sparkling Pamplemousse seemed to be everyone’s last choice beverage for the apocalypse - but as time wore on (and we probably drank up the local supply) it’s been hard to acquire more than a flat. I picked up 2 today which will likely keep us hydrated till May. 

Liquor? Well we’ve slowly been depleting the reserve. Manhattans claimed the rye, Old Fashioned’s the Bourbon, we lacked limes to take on the tequila, but lemons and Sidecars took care of the cognac and triple sec. Negronis made use of the Campari and remaining sweet vermouth. That left Martinis to finish off the gin, the olives, and Gibson’s for the vodka and onions. Apparently we’re too far away to get a delivery from BevMo, but Trader Joe’s once again refilled our cocktail pantry. 

As for the gasoline, we probably could have waited. A quarter tank in the CRV we had already gone 5 weeks at least. Thirty dollars to fill up and now without the daily quest for toilet paper we’re probably fine till sometime in June. This is the most disconcerting to a Californian like myself, used to spending 2-3 hours a day in my car. I should add we’re almost exclusively using Lisa’s car. I only get in mine once a week to move it for street sweeping. I guess at some point I’ll return to the office though there’s not much reason for it now. I guess regardless I’m now ready for May.

Hedonism and Social Media



Our relationships with others have long been recognized as one of the primary sources of happiness.  Epicurus, the quintessential enlightened hedonist himself, is oft quoted: of all things which wisdom provides to make us entirely happy, much the greatest is the possession of friendship.

I’ve been thinking about social media - actually I’ve been thinking about Facebook - the site that
everyone hates and yet cannot quit. The promise is that with its ubiquity, it keeps us connected to all our social circles. Truely,  it delivers on increasing the number of our connections; however, the connections themselves are nominal at best.

We share moments of our lives, and we know the moments are edited and curated to present our best selves (to be sure we also do this offline as well). At its worst we’ve adopted the language of marketing, trying to create or establish our “brand” turning ourselves into products of the social marketplace. As part of this process we also censor ourselves to keep peace among judgemental family members, old school acquaintances, and if we were foolish enough to add them, coworkers. Often even our vulnerabilities are performative, staged for responses of encouragement.

Ultimately, we connect our thinnest self to the thinnest representations of our communities. There is no depth their and while the vernacular is “friending” there is little that actually contributes to actual friendship. And yet the FOMO, fear of missing out, keeps us refreshing our feeds.

We all have that friend who’s either dropped out or refused to join, and while they claim their happiness, we still view it with a bit of suspicion. We know they get left off of invitations, and seeing them less online appears to translate into seeing them less offline as well. There are studies that show social media makes us less happy, and other studies that show it has no effect. So what’s a hedonist to do?

I often think of Dunbar’s number - that limit we have to maintaining stable social relationships. The research seems to indicate that we can maintain somewhere between 100-250 social relationships. I’ve seen this play out a number of times in different internet groups. Anytime the active membership hits these limits, factions start to develop and splits are likely to occur. So I wonder if keeping one’s friend count to below 250 might be one strategy? Perhaps another part of that equation is identifying how many “friends” are really people, and not just products or brands acting like individuals or individuals acting as brands.

I also think of the social media before Facebook, specialized message boards, websites, Live Journal. Their anonymity encouraged candid conversation and enabled one to find others who shared interests - people who should be friends but otherwise wouldn’t due to the restrictions of geography, race, or social class.

Certainly one advantage of social media is its ability to transcend geography. Suddenly I can connect to like-minded individuals anywhere on the globe - and indeed I’ve made friends with people on several different continents. I would hate to give that up.

The real key probably comes down to intentional use: recognizing the psychological tricks the various apps use to keep us scrolling, curating our friend lists as well as our posts - can we ever be authentic on social media? And reflecting on that thought, is that any different than our other social encounters? Perhaps Facebook makes us so uncomfortable because it confronts us with our own manufacture?

I don't have a solution yet. But I remain engaged, hoping to find, connect with, and foster the relationships that enrich my own well being while hopefully contributing to others.



Tuesday, April 21, 2020

April 21, 2020

April 21, 2020 

Week 6 and it seems like time is standing still. Each day more or less like the last. The same items on the to do list that you didn’t get done yesterday, or the day before that are there again. I think I talked about this before, but repetition speeds the perception of time. We Think as we get older time seems to move faster as each year, day, month become a smaller unit of experienced time - but that’s not the whole story. 

The part that is missing is that the more time we spend doing the same thing, the more our memory compresses it into undifferentiated passages of time. Rather, it’s when we experience new things, challenge our minds and memories that we start to feel the fullness of time. It slows as it’s filled with unique and distinct experiences. 

On the plus side, despite the seemingly endlessness of the current situation, when it ends the memories will quickly compress and we’ll simply ask ourselves “where did all the time go?” But we will also emerge on the other side paying the opportunity costs of not living more fully, the places not visited, the events unattended, all the things we couldn’t do. Our challenge really is finding what we can do right now in confinement that makes the moment different, distinct, and fully lived - I’m still working on that one.



Monday, April 20, 2020

April 20, 2020

April 20, 2020 

Last week the batteries died in our “smart scale” and I still haven’t replaced them. Of course prior to their death the numbers on the scale were just getting larger. So yeah my failure to replace the batteries is probably another manifestation of denial. 

It’s no surprise really. When I was going to work in DTLA I was taking the metro and doing a fare amount of walking on top of the dog walks - I mean it wasn’t training for a marathon but it was regular activity and a sort of ambient exercise. Aside from the weight I’m no longer tracking, my Fitbit tells me my resting heartbeat is getting faster while my steps get fewer. 

There was a time in this thing to load up on Costco sized snacks, gallon jugs of M&Ms, and peanut butter. But now starting week 6 it may be time to put the new batteries into the scale, pay attention to what I’m eating so I don’t put myself at even more risk, and find some ways to move a bit more so pulling weeds doesn’t exhaust me. After all I have no idea when I’ll return to the office, and already know when that happens, I’ll be discouraged from taking public transit so the habits I can form now have a chance at some longevity - at least for the foreseeable future.



Sunday, April 19, 2020

April 19, 2020

April 19, 2020 

Another weekend down and ready to start another week in isolation, week 6 I believe. Part of me stubbornly remains in denial, but it’s loosing ground. More and more I’m thinking of the ongoing daily grind - that I do need to make my office space more functional, that I am going to have to find time to clean the floors, that the boxes of empty liquor bottles will need to be tossed no matter how embarrassing they’ve become. 

 Today we were actually productive. Acquiring plants and soil, weeding the front and side yards, actually getting plants in the ground and watering Them. The last part is all Lisa, as I focused on the weeds to hopefully prevent us from being fined by the city for our unruly yard. Then again it’s already giving up oranges and other citrus, soon tomatoes, kale, and herbs will enter into the mix - I’m not sure it will ever be able to properly feed us , but will certainly contribute their flavors and improve our cocktails.



Saturday, April 18, 2020

April 18, 2020

April 18, 2020 

I slept through most of the day. I got up took the dogs for a walk, had some toast for breakfast with Lisa and then went back into the bedroom to read a paragraph and fell into a troubling but restorative sleep. Exhaustion, depression, I don’t know but I seemed to need it today so gave in right away. 

In my dreams, my friend Lauren visited us - I feel bad because I never got a chance to visit her before all this went down and now, we’ll who knows when we can share a drink with our friends? The unfortunate part of this dream is that I can do lucid dreaming - and while this dream was going on and Lisa and Lauren were chatting, I became aware of the situation’s impossibility - recognized I was in a dream and not really seeing my friend, so just felt the loss. My Fitbit ranked my nap as an 84 in good sleep (I seldom rank that high in normal sleep cycles) so while I can out Refreshed, I was also disappointed. 

In my waking life the highlights of the day included watching the artist Murakami’s Instagram Live story and a virtual poetry reading. I watched Murakami make his dinner in his tiny kitchen - Udon noodles, with broth and tempura from a favorite brand I can’t remember. It was such a humanizing experience. He talked of his 20’s drinking and getting into fights contrasted with his current self, older - finding it harder to be innovative, changes in his brain, and I felt I saw more of him than in any artist talk I have seen. Instagram has a reputation of artificiality as people edit their content and curate their brands. Sometimes though, it captures moments of honesty and vulnerability that I keep coming back for. Show me yourself and I’m there, show me your “brand” and I keep scrolling .

For the second week in a row Lisa and I tuned into the Red Hen Press’ poetry hour and was delighted once again. Most people shy away from poetry as something just too pretentious to endure, or involving too much work to decrypt some hidden meaning. But it’s power to capture a moment, a feeling, an experience you miss until you engage with it. Anyone dealing with their lack of productivity needs to hear Allison Jospeh’s poem on regret. Coming out of this I just want more. More of these captured moments of humor, wit, an insight. It makes me want to try my own hand at this medium to see what skill I may have - or at least play with it a little as it both intrigues and intimidates me. But for the moment, I will sleep on this and see how I feel in the morning.

Friday, April 17, 2020

April 17,2020

April 17, 2020 

There’s a certain baseline comfort at home, which is where most of us are spending our time these days. It sort of had an ability to absorb some of the strangeness of the time, sleeping in the same bed, coffee from the same coffee maker every morning, the pets and family members. The chief strangeness about the place is that you seldom leave it. Even when you do leave it you stay within your neighborhood. I suppose there’s some comfort in that, some space for gratitude. 

Today we went grocery shopping at that was jarring. I think this was the first time we’ve been out of the house since the mandatory face mask order went in place, so as we pulled into the parking lot, everyone was masked. Walking into the Albertsons the floor was covered in more taped markings. In addition to the 6 foot markings in front of every register, the aisles themselves now had arrows and signs designating them as one-way, and only allowing a maximum of two carts per aisle. I didn’t quite realize this until we were halfway through our shopping and realized that we could just quickly grab something from a familiar spot, we had to approach it from the right side. 

Leaving the store, a line had started to form (our timing was good today) and looking at its masked constituents, I was struck by how dystopian our world has become. As much as I try to keep a perspective of abundance, it was clear that the scarcity mindset was winning this battle and I just wanted to go home, to my safe refuge, where I can continue the illusion of familiarity.

Thursday, April 16, 2020

April 16,2020

April 16, 2020 

Today the Scrub Jays made my day. Feeling the drag of the day - not at all helped when work at home involves reading legal documents - my eyelids were lifted by a familiar squawk. 

You see, we’ve been feeding the neighborhood scrub jays for some time now, and keep our pantry filled with unsalted peanuts to have on hand whenever they show up. 

Lately the our neighborhood squirrel has been getting into the action, eating all the nuts we leave out on the front porch. The jays though, know if they can get our attention, we’ll feed them in the backyard as well. Sometimes we’ll catch one looking into our bedroom window to see if we’re there - and then squawk at us to feed them. 

I love our urban wildlife, the jays, raccoons, and squirrels. By other reports it seems to be returning here as well as the Yosemite valley. I guess when we are not allowed contact with our friends we can still find ways to connect to nature. It’s nice to have someone drop by for a drink or a snack even if it is just a couple of birds.



Wednesday, April 15, 2020

April 15,2020

April 15, 2020 

Tax Day, or so my calendar says (not getting the Covid update). I suppose that’s one silver lining in all this, at least for a procrastinator like myself. Since last year’s “tax cut” resulted in us paying more taxes I’ve been reluctant to calculate this years damage. I suppose this allows me to spend a little more time in denial - but of the two certainties, death and taxes, I’ll ultimately choose the latter - but I’ve still got time for that. 

I understand that people are starting to receive their relief checks. Again, I’m grateful to be working so I’m okay for the moment. Still working out how the situation affects my own personal economics, to be sure I’m spending much less on gas. 

I actually drove my car for the first time in 2 weeks. We’ve been using Lisa’s car to do our shopping, mine has been sitting idle in front of our house but I flipped a U-ie to park on the other side of the street - for street sweeping - my 2-minute 5MPH drive. Nice to see the car’s still working, probably won’t need to take it to a gas station till sometime in August. I guess the lesson for me here is if I worked from home, we could easily lose a car. Something else to consider what the post-Covid world might look like.



Tuesday, April 14, 2020

April 14, 2020

April 14, 2020 

Our new fridge arrived today, and I think we are naming him Paris. After discussing past fridges, our last who went unnamed and suffered a variety of problems from the start, and our stalwart fridge before that, named Hubble who lasted just as long as the space telescope he was named after, we started entertaining the superstition that naming our fridge would ensure its longevity. 

Of course Paris is a bittersweet name. Lisa posted earlier that we got a refrigerator instead of a trip to Paris and sadly it seems true. And while France seems to have a plan of starting a path to normalcy mid May, so many things need to fall into place before we can plan that (or any other) trip again. 

It was then no surprise that we both came to the conclusion that the fridge had to be named Paris. I’d like to think Paris is already improving our mojo as bringing him in forced us to address some of our household neglect ( we vacuumed for the first time since confinement) after which we lounged in the living room, reading our books with an appropriately chilled cocktail by our side, finally taking pleasure in some time off. Soon, with Paris the sophistication of crushed ice will become a regular part of our life - not to mention a deli drawer accessible Brie or chèvre - “we got it in Paris” we can say, as we wait for the borders to open again.



Monday, April 13, 2020

April 13, 2020

April 13, 2020 

I’m starting to think about what things may look like on the other side. I listened to a This American Life episode about China emerging from lockdown. And some of their new normal sounds like it could very likely be ours as well. While masks are no longer required, they’ve become a cultural norm and people continue to wear them. I can see this happening for folks like me who ride the metro to work - masks may become an expectation for anyone spending time in close proximity to other people. 

I hear that in order to enter any public venue, temperatures are taken with one of those infrared thermometer guns. If you have a temperature you’re not allowed to enter. I can see that becoming the norm for public events the same way bag searches and metal detectors have become. 

The most “Black Mirror” change seems to be a cell phone app that monitors your movements through GPS. If you are not traveling to infected places or sharing space with people who are sick or at high risk of being sick, you have “green” status and can travel freely. If not, a status of “red” bars you from public spaces or travel. At first blush it seems we’d never see such a thing here - and yet, as the last IPhone update showed us, we’ve already been sharing that data with everyone. What a perk it would be to have an app that acknowledged you as “safe. ” I could easily see AEG requiring its use to attend a show they promoted, or Uber as a way of ensuring the safety of both rider and driver. Such a thing won’t need to be imposed by the government it’ll be the product of a “brilliant entrepreneur “ and the next member of the billionaire club (if not already an alum) - keeping us both safe and productive. 

Of course there will be some resistance - conspiracy theories blaming the Chinese, the New World Order, or the Illuminati - but in the end it will just be more convenient, because “what do I have to hide” and “I just want to have a drink or two with my friends.” It’s all speculation now, we’re still trying to figure out how this virus works. Still I think it a good idea to spend a little thought on where this may take us.



Sunday, April 12, 2020

April 12, 2020

April 12, 2020 

The rain has finally let up and the people who don’t have dogs to walk are out again. We all now engage in the social distancing dance, trying to predict speed and trajectory of others taking into consideration the wildcards among them - unleashed dogs, unsupervised children, or the delivery services. On top of that is the negotiation of the subtle yet disruptive changes in the environment - the narrow passageway through the unmanicured xeriscape of pointy succulents, the car in the drive way with taillights blinking, the still flooded gutters that cannot be easily crossed by pug. 

Where once we’d stop and say hello, let the dogs meet, now we slow and sometime stop on approach. The greeting is awkward, our embarrassed and apologetic smiles go unseen behind our masks, and as much as we’d like to stop and chat like we used to, one of us will cross the street or change direction. Hopefully the dogs will remember that these are our friends despite the changes in our social interactions - hopefully we will too. 

The masks add an additional layer of guilt and judgement. The masked glare at the unmasked, the unmasked roll their eyes back. I already feel guilty when I take out some trash out and see someone masked approach on the sidewalk - “I usually wear a mask,” I want to say but already know they’ve judged me as reckless and uncaring. 

I think the dogs also wonder about the changed social order which requires as much time for me to mask up and plug my earbuds in my phone as it does to get their leash and harness on - not sure if they feel a sorry kinship with my new routine, or are just resentful of the fact that it now takes longer to get from their walk to dinner. They probably wonder what I did to have to be muzzled in public. For now they’re happy that I’m home to spend more time with them, and that they don’t have to walk in the rain.

Saturday, April 11, 2020

April 11,2020

April 11,2020 

Memes, poetry, global culture. It seems the memes have finally caught up with me. The bingo card, 30 days of music, your Covid alcoholic name. A byproduct of boredom to be sure, to occupy time, make a connection with friends, and feel productive in some fashion. They are the engine of the internet, feeding our narcissism - but now they have an an even more existential imperative. As people are isolated from one another these are low risk calls to be acknowledged, to be defined in some humorous fashion - and more importantly to not be forgotten. 


Tonight Lisa and I dropped in on the Red Hen Poetry Hour - a Facebook live event sponsored by the Broad Stage and hosted by Sandra Tsing Loh. It was the first virtual event we’ve attended. And while we endured the usual WiFi glitches that these things bring with them, it was nice to have an hour of poetry between the usual distractions. I actually love how poetry constructed our of language also finds ways to transcend language - poetry is always seems to be spoken in a way that makes it song, the vowels extended, the rhythm of speak, the unexpected pauses that invite your thoughts to fill the empty spaces. Anyway while watching with one phone patched into the TV another phone was scanning amazon to pick up a new volume or two to hopefully share with friends when we’re allowed to travel together again. 


I also indulged in some virtual traveling when invited to join a Facebook group called view from your window (thank you Christine) which calls on people around the world to post a picture looking out of a window from where they are currently quarantined. Again I’m struck by the universality of this experience looking out of windows in Belgium, France, or South Africa. We are all confined and yet the world is out there being watched by billions of eyes behind window panes - this experience we share with the world (hit me up if you’d like a invite to the group). Anyway - up too late tonight, not that time has any meaning anymore but find myself, thoughtful, curious, and engaged which is a welcome change from the last few days - may the continue.



Friday, April 10, 2020

April 10, 2020

April 10, 2020 

Today we passed the 28 day mark. The week passed quickly, and while it seems unfathomable that this will continue another month, should that happen this would mark the midpoint. 

That said, I think Today I touched upon the point where the endearing becomes annoying as I found myself descending an internet wormhole. Riunite - that “wine” once sold as some exotic Italian vintage, sophisticated yet delicious and available in flavors to pair with any cuisine. They had a catchy jingle “Riunite on ice, it’s nice” which in my research remained mostly unchanged through the 70s and 80s. I was delighted to find so many of their 30 second commercials archived in YouTube. The camp, the fashion, the clichés, the forced attempts at diversity and branding. They introduces new products, Spumante and Peach Moscato - sold with an 80s workout theme - so fresh so peach... 

There’s a rule of 3 in repetition, that three repeats establish a pattern, anymore and monotony sets in. While I was delighted with my internet find, Lisa was done at the 4th playing of the jingle. The freshness of the peach version did not add enough variety - so I ended my research project (for now) in the interest of our long term harmony - particularly as we me be at this for at least another month. Pick your projects carefully.

Thursday, April 9, 2020

April 9, 2020

April 9, 2020 

Today was Lisa’s birthday. We’re both of that age where unless it ends in a 5 or a 0 we’d rather shun the public recognition. Still, an appropriate occasion for a night out, a good dinner, hanging out with close friends. Of course none of those things are allowed right now - so I feel bad for Lisa, and feel bad for myself to be able to pull off something adequately celebratory. 

We did what we could - and actually had our best night of take-out since isolation started 4 weeks ago, a string of Gibsons to keep us distracted and a nice Zoom session with some of our closest friends. It was nice but the starkness of it will likely make it one of those birthdays committed to memory for nothing else but the disconnects it contained. 

How can we celebrate in times like these? Graduations cancelled, birthdays and anniversaries limited to immediate family - or maybe just pets - or maybe just one’s social media feeds - it doesn’t seem right. Rain checks may be given, promises may be made, but will we remember to acknowledge these past occasions when we can finally celebrate the virus’s demise? Or will that moment automatically contain all the stifled celebrations of these isolated weeks/months? 

I hope Lisa gets her due, one way or the other. These days will certainly be remembered for what was denied - the year the Olympics were postponed, the Summer of no season for the Hollywood Bowl, all the other events cancelled or postponed. We still move through the calendar’s timeline, the dates come and go. We all have to decide which ones we acknowledge or ignore. So I wish Lisa a happy birthday knowing it will be constrained in the hopes of better times to come.

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

April 8, 2020

April 8, 2020 

Today’s newsfeed included images of the demolition of LACMA as they clear away the old buildings to make room for the new. I suppose this is an ideal time to get this job done as museums are now closed to the general public, but it still pains me to see it happen for a number of reasons. 

I have a sentimental attachment to the structures coming down. Lisa and I saw so many great exhibits there, and have great memories of just occupying that space, discovering real treasures. It seems weird that we will never enter those spaces again. 




It’s also troubling in a time when museums are closed and we can’t see art, that a museum is being torn down. I know we’re promised a new museum (one that carries many other criticisms that I won’t get into here) but in these uncertain times I think it’s reasonable to wonder if that too will be interrupted. 

I miss seeing art. I know many places have pushed out their virtual collections, but there is something about experiencing works in person, to experience their scale, their details, or just being in their presence. One of my favorite things to do when working downtown was to take long lunches and visit MOCA or the Broad - to sit in the room of Rothko’s, to discover something new. I hope to be able to do that again

Tuesday, April 7, 2020

April 7, 2020

April 7, 2020 

I don’t want to go to work tomorrow. Even though that just means pouring myself a cup of coffee and walking down the hall so I can respond to some emails and attend a couple of conference calls. I just want some time to do nothing. We were supposed to return from Paris today and I originally asked for tomorrow off. I’ve long learned that taking that extra day between vacation and return to work is a necessity to make that transition, get the rest you need, and get your stuff in order. We didn’t go to Paris but I still want that day. 

Tonight I watched my friend Jen make matzahs from scratch over Facebook. Unable to buy some at the market, she was forced to make her own - is there not a better Passover story for these days of COVID-19? I couldn’t help but think of all the Seders I’ve been to, from the neighborhood friends of my childhood, to grand multimedia spectaculars of the recent past (thank you Steve) it’s an honor and a privilege be included, to hear the story, to participate in the tradition so that it feels like one of my own, especially as a person of German heritage. There’s a shame I inherited with that, a dissonance in that my ancestry includes the oppressors. It’s a grim reminder that some of my privilege is gained in part through that legacy. 

If nothing else, these times are a reminder of the cycles that exist well beyond our personal lives. That there will always be forces beyond our control, whether pandemic, natural disaster, or political upheaval - that can both bring us together or separate us. That these forces also reveal who we are and can define us. We struggle to be good sometimes to some presumed objective measure, but for me (and I suspect others) to be good to the people who mean the most to us, our friends and family who share our stories. I think that’s what strikes me about Passover, it includes sharing the story of both suffering and triumph, the shared struggle, and celebration. I’m an outsider to the story, but it still resonates with me. I am thankful to all of you to all who have shared your stories with me. May we continue to learn from them.

Monday, April 6, 2020

April 6, 2020

April 6, 2020 

It’s crazy to think of how quickly we’ve come to accept certain things. Our borders are closed and we can no longer freely travel. We also are no longer allowed to assemble. Social media and video chat are the encouraged means of communications - heavily monitored by ethically challenged corporations and probably governments (h/t to Edward Snowden). 

Efforts considered environmentally conscious are now discouraged: Do not bring your own bags to market, Do not use refillable mugs, Do not take public transportation, if you can drive - and yet the environment seems to be so much better.

Meanwhile after criticizing Muslim women’s face covering, we now require everyone’s face to be covered when out in public. Which interestingly enough seems to confound face recognition, not to mention option of gloves that mess with fingerprint readers. 

I’ve avoided the speculative articles on how things will be different in the post-COVID world, but seeing some changes already in place, I’m not convinced it will all be positive. We’ll have some opportunities to be sure, but there is still plenty of fear and suspicion to subvert them. I don’t know when living in an intentional community ever sounded better to me than right now and perhaps that’s a sign that now’s the time to let my intentions be known.



Sunday, April 5, 2020

April 5, 2020

April 5, 2020 

Recovered a bit from yesterday and a trip to Home Depot was our excursion for the day. Along with the needed weed and ant killers, I found some awkwardly sized, but warm in hue lightbulbs to correct yesterday’s errors. Oh, and a new fridge. Not really the thing we wanted to be buying right now but yeah after checking out the models and colors found one that will hopefully keep our food cool for at least the 5 years of the extended warranty we probably didn’t need but thanks to the failings of our current fridge made it seem prudent. Anyway I end the weekend completing the task of changing some light bulbs, buying a fridge, and even getting a load of laundry in. Win?

Saturday, April 4, 2020

April 4, 2020

April 4, 2020 

Today was a drink whiskey and eat peanut butter straight out of the jar kind of day. 

I had a list if easy tasks to do today including replacing some burnt out light bulbs. So there’s a reason lightbulb we’re available in abundance at Costco - they are awful. That bright blue light that you only used to be able to get from fluorescents - I swear just seeing them makes you hear that buzz in some sort of mnemonic synthesia. Anyway the simple task of replacing a bulb turned into a task of matching light warmth across different fixtures. An hour later, our kitchen looks fine but our dinning room now looks like an operating theater - sigh - there is a trip to Home Depot in my future. 

But of course that trip was inevitable for a number of reasons: The ants have come back so need some new traps; the rains have brought weeds, so I’ll need to get some more of that industrial poison I tell the neighbors is just some vinegar mixture; and the fridge - oy, the fridge... 

So after our last trip to Costco we filled every inch of our fridge’s 28.5 cubic foot capacity which admittedly restricted airflow - which was a bit worrisome as the fridge seemed to settle on temperatures in the mid 50s - before climbing into the low 60s. This gave me time to cycle through the Kübler-Ross stages of fridge-grief Denial - the fridge is fine we just overloaded it. Anger - I hate this fridge! Bargaining - maybe if I move some items around the air can flow and the temp will drop? Depression - we are going to have to throw away all this produce. Acceptance - we need a new fridge. I have to say Lisa was quite good at allowing me to go through all the stages all while checking out new fridges online - she’s much quicker to acceptance than me. 

But I close the day after zooming with some friends, sipping whiskey with Lisa eating pistachio nuts for this is truly the best of all possible worlds.

Friday, April 3, 2020

April 3, 2020

April 3, 2020 

I have the COVID-19 Worldometer bookmarked on my phone and check it several times a day. At the same time, I’m archiving any email that mentions Covid 19 before I ever read them - Ads, bank, updates from politicians, random notices from websites I may have visited. I archive them because I think they’ll become artifacts of this time. I don’t read them because I already know the messages: “We’re doing our best,” “we’re here to support you,” “here are some things you shouldn’t be doing,” “here are some things you should...” 

Honestly, some of these messages I ought to read, the tips to keep me sane, let me know I’m not alone, acknowledge the weird space we’re in. But my to-do list is already full of things I’m not doing. A package of lightbulbs sits on a counter underneath the lamp it’s intended to replaced, the basket of weeds I pulled that just need to be dumped in the bin, the laundry - is the laundry ever really “done ?” So I regard these messages with a bit of resentment, asking me for time I’d rather not give. 

Still, I’ve archived them - so they’re all there if I want to take a peak. Most likely though, I’ll keep them unread for some anticipatory nostalgia in the future.

Thursday, April 2, 2020

April 2, 2020

April 2, 2020 

Ennui - that’s where I am today, following my routine, pretending everything is normal while wondering why I can’t take some of this time, this isolation, and make something more of it. At the core I’m still really a hedonist and it seems each and every pleasure is slowly being drained away. Early this week I realized that one of the main things I liked my job is its location downtown, where I could visit museums at lunch, check out the swanky new bars and restaurants, and just walk among the buildings. Now I walk the dogs and my commute takes me from our kitchen down the hall to our studio - grabbing a handful of M&Ms on the way. Even See’s Candy has shut down. 

Lisa took a drive to run errands today. I would have joined her, but I had a “meeting”/conference call. She got to drive along the Palos Verdes peninsula, gaze out to the sea - but she couldn’t stop anywhere - the parks and public ways are now all closed. There’s a beautiful world out there but for the moment we have to keep driving. No stopping. No indulging. Only the essentials. I’m not cut out to be a stoic or a Buddhist, I long for my attachments, my pleasures, my indulgences - it’s how I find meaning, choosing that cup of coffee. I’m sure there are some creative solutions it’s just I still lack the motivation to discover or pursue them. So for today - Ennui.



Wednesday, April 1, 2020

April 1, 2020

April 1, 2020 

Today’s a hard one. Perhaps it’s the residual hopelessness in thinking about how much is out of my control and how I still cling to certain routines to distract me. This will pass, to be sure but still have anxiety about what lays on the other side. I can’t bring myself to think of future plans as this stasis keeps moving forward in 14 day increments. 

Still, I’m trying to find ways to indulge in certain pleasures, while I can’t dine at favorite restaurants I still can get take out, while I can’t see my friends I can still connect in social media, while we can’t go on vacation, we can still get in the car and drive. I’m lucky to have Lisa and the creatures with me. It may be cliche, but taking a moment for gratitude is what saves me sometimes.