How does it feel as a worker to understand your job is "non-essential"?
How does it feel as a student to realize the "safe space" you've spent so much tuition to attend is the most dangerous of all?
What does it mean when the hospitals, where we're meant to go to get well, are actually the places we're most likely to get sick and die?
When the time value of money is negative and "equities" are things that lose the most money?
When the healing power of touch is poison and intimacy is to be avoided at all costs?
Whatever the truth of this virus, or the meaning of this story we're living through, none of us are going to emerge with our conceptions intact.
I'm not sure what's going on at the shop this week. We've cut back hours a bit. The trains are running on a reduced weekend schedule all week, and even so, almost nobody is on them. So I guess I can finally agree without hyperbole that things in Boston look about as bleak as the news portrays. I'm going in today to handle a bunch of mail-order business so that people can have some pleasure in their homes.
But look at me couching this in positive language, as if there's some nobility to it. The truth is I love my job and can't afford to lose it. Let's not pretend the world would be measurably worse off if I stayed home, for anyone but me.
Phone posting today, as I couldn't be bothered to lug my laptop along with me through the rain. Pictures raw and unedited. For some reason the fact that it's raining is what's bothering me most about the day. It's easier to handle the apocalypse when the sun is shining.