Brown
Brown is the color of the bottles I buy. I just realized that today, having bought this particular red for months. Funny how the little things gain importance as the big things recede into meaninglessness. Who cares whether trump lives or dies? The damage he has done will live on after him-kinda like Julius Caesar. What does it matter if it rains or the skies are blue? We are limited to these few square meters unless we take out the garbage or go buy groceries. The change in weather means that every trip might be different, novel...memorable? Ten thousand people died of the virus today. So many have died in the last months, it no longer seems a lot. Nobody I know personally has died, I have not seen bodies in the street, I have not smelled decaying flesh. It all seems so remote; not that I want it to hit me in the face. But the wine I drink comes out of brown bottles!
Vanessa B. told me that IT was getting to me. It is. I guess what bothers me most is the inability to move, wander, the loss of freedom of movement. Confinement in my home is far superior to that in a jail cell. How would I know? I spent about sixteen hours in custody of the City and County of Honolulu back in 1965. I did jail time, in a real cell with a smelly mattress, clammy walls and floor, steel bars and lousy food. In the cell to my right was a guy who was telling nobody and everybody why and how he killed his wife. On my left was a fellow who retched and puked all night. Entertainment. I knew that I would be arraigned and adjudicated the next morning. It wasn't as bad as this. There was an end in sight. Release or a period of confinement were definite; I could handle either, as long as I knew.
We have nominally eight more days to go. I would not bet a dime that the confinement period will not be extended. Don't get me wrong. I think it would be necessary and the right thing to do for society, but that doesn't make it any easier. Who said Limbo wasn't so bad?
Maybe I should learn to play the guitar...
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