“This could be a hell of a bad two weeks. This is going to be a very bad two, and maybe three weeks. This is going to be three weeks like we’ve never seen before,” Trump said at a White House press conference Tuesday. White House officials are projecting between 100,000 and 240,000 deaths in the U.S. with coronavirus fatalities peaking over the next two weeks. “When you look at night, the kind of death that has been caused by this invisible enemy, it’s incredible.”
Darkness darkness, be my blanket Cover me with the endless night Take away away the pain of knowing Fill the emptiness of right now Emptiness of right now Emptiness of right now
Not Bedouin, like we thought. Definitely not the Van Morrison variety. But certainly nomadic. Maybe by choice, maybe not. Not sure it matters.
These days we all wander through assorted social distancing deserts on the thirsty backs of our phones. In search of an eye or an ear. Social media touches. Dots. Likes. Tags. And so forth and so on.
I left social media when this barmy dotard was somehow elected to what was previously the most powerful office in the world. Over time I got drug back into it. Now it is it. All there is.
It occurs to me that I’m not any more fit for this new is than the last one.
I did re-friend my pal Amos on Facebook, which helps a little. If he can operate in this new world, I should be able to do so. I really like that guy. I think he knows it. We are fellow first-world refugees.
I took the trash to the dump today, during my virtual lunch hour-and-a-half. There are a hundred thousand gnats buzzing around my ears and eyes. Only some of them are real.
On the way back, I stopped by HEB. Those folks are bringing it during these weird, dark times. No chicken livers to fry. But plenty of shrimp and iced tea. And bread.
You’re a lion’s tooth, I’m a piece of bread….
Had a few phone calls. One was dark, and one was bright and warm. Light, all of it. Or the absence thereof.
There are moths all over the house. We get along mostly.
Lights attract all manner of things. There’s muted colors of green and red. More immediate blue. Some stuffy white. Some that dim for a second when the air conditioning comes on. Power darkens. Or something like that.
There aren’t many black lights anymore, like in that long ago barn loft we turned into a smoky, musical, safe haven.
Do you know why you see more white sheep than black ones? Because there are more of them.
You just throw back your hair And you’ll say you don’t care When you hide that look on your face You used to have such a pretty little smile Yeah, but look at you now
About Joe Purdy, from Arkansas. In the United States.
There are those who’d like to change the way I’m living It seems they just don’t like me the way I am Tomorrow I may live the way they’re thinkin’ Ah, but tonight I just don’t give a damn
Thom Jurek of AllMusic calls the song “the bitterest cut Jones ever recorded.” He claims he wrote it at 3 a.m. in the aftermath of the divorce, and it comes right from the Hank Williams tradition of catharsis songs.
We missed each other’s company, though, so I threw caution to the wind, washed my hands, and invited Will to wash his hands and lie on the bed with me, as far from my body as possible, to listen to a recording of the 1977 Cornell Grateful Dead show while watching the sunset from our bedroom window. I kept it together until Jerry, in “Morning Dew,” sang, “Where have all the people gone, my honey? Where have all the people gone today?”
This remote working thing is getting real. The zombies want my toilet paper, every one I know wants me to give them an “essential letter,” and I’m down to my last bottle of Purell.
I wanna tell you all the story ’bout A Harper Valley widowed wife Who had a teenage daughter Who attended Harper Valley Junior High
About The Unifics, from Howard University. In Washington, DC. If you, like me, are blown away by that drum track, it won’t surprise you that Jerome Brailey went on to play with P-Funk.
Newsome.Org 