Life is a pure flame...
...and we live by an invisible sun within us
In the grey summer garden I shall find you
With day-break and the morning hills behind you.
There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;
And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.
Not from the past you’ll come, but from that deep
Where beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:
And I shall know the sense of life re-born
From dreams into the mystery of morn
Where gloom and brightness meet. And standing there
Till that calm song is done, at last we’ll share
The league-spread, quiring symphonies that are
Joy in the world, and peace, and dawn’s one star.
- “Idyll”, Siegfried Sassoon
I hear the jingle distantly; then, closer, closer, and finally: here. There’s an ice cream truck randomly driving around my neighborhood, and it is utterly eerie. It’s still a shade too cold for ice cream sales, so it’s not like people are lining up to buy ice cream cones, but it’s a jarring shove of normalcy in a world absent of it.
Also absent: people.
There’s no one in the streets. I deliberately avoid going outside, because the equation here in Queens is simple: outside means illness, and illness could mean death. I briefly step outside to my back porch, catch a breath of air - and duck back inside. A friend calls ‘round noon, and we stretch out the conversation, because it is a joy to talk with someone new. A stranger calls ‘round three of the clock, and my inside voice desperately wants to talk with this person, simply because it’s someone different.
I listen to way more music than I did before, simply because it gives me the illusion that I’m not alone. My life has shrunk to the horizons of my bedroom, my kitchen, and sometimes, my porch. Then, back again. Sometimes, I see someone else duck out of their house; we wave, furtively, and return to our self-imposed solitude. Never has a city of millions felt so solitary.
I see a picture of a platter of fish and chips online, and suddenly, achingly, I can taste the battered cod; feel the crispiness and saltiness of the fries on my tongue. I have to catch my breath, judderingly. I have not eaten anything cooked by anyone other than myself for the last month; I wonder when I will again. Yes, I can order delivery, but I quail at the idea that I might risk contagion. Yes, I’m aware the risk is minimal; no, I don’t care.
I only know what day it is because I am fortunate to work, and thus have imposed on myself a routine reminiscent of my Army days. Which is how I know that it’s Friday, and this is another issue of the Miscellanies, written by me, Raf.
Thank you for reading; if you’ve signed up, thank you for doing that. If you’re reading this, and you haven’t signed up, you can do that by mashing the sign-up button below.
The Virus Is a Reminder of Something Lost Long Ago. “In rebuilding a broken world, we will have the chance to choose a less hurried life.” Physicist Alan Lightman sketches out the potential for us to choose to live our lives at a less frenetic pace than before — which we absolutely should.
USPS facing bankruptcy from coronavirus crisis — could be forced to cease operations as early as June without emergency funding. This would be disastrous, and it’s more proof that Congress utterly bungled their initial relief package.
Speaking of which: "You can’t fight that with some checks in the mail and infrastructure week. You have to rethink the American economy, and fight for a vision of a different future. The moment demands a New New Deal for the 21st Century." Zach Carter absolutely nails Congress to the wall here.
bored.solutions — ideas of things to learn, make, and do while self-isolating. Lots of good things here, folks.
Life, Death, and Dinner — the head chef at Portland, OR’s Nostrana writes movingly about the experience of shutting down his restaurant.
Toilet paper shortages can be explained by people using 40% more of it at home — completely obvious in hindsight, but this is the first I've seen this explained.
YTMND resurrected with the help of fans, rebuilt for modern browsers — the 19-year-old meme community fell into disrepair after Google cut it off from ad revenue, and went offline last year. I am so, so happy this is back. This what a meme is, kids.
Oh my god, yes! NBA.FM — MSCHF is simulating the lost NBA season as "hyper-realistic audio gameplay broadcasts" live. You can give them your cell number to receive text alerts when games are live. This is so awesome, people.
The Last Best Time — John Scalzi wrote about the experience being on JoCoCruise as Covid-19 started exploding in the U.S.
“In this time of confinement, we have been given one immeasurable gift — the freedom to go outside. In exchange, we must abide by a simple rule: Stay six feet away from others. As choreographic intentions go, that’s not remotely vague. Yet during my runs and walks in Brooklyn over the past few days, I’ve noticed that six feet doesn’t mean the same thing to everybody.” NYT dance critic Gia Kourlas nails it; this is a must-read.
Man, I miss walking around so much. I fell into a YouTube hole of walking videos, and you can peep this thread by Sarah Pavis if you want some more.
This personality test from the Open-Source Psychometrics Project will rate your similarity to over 400 fictional characters, out of works ranging from Parks and Recreation to Pride and Prejudice. I got Morpheus, which is pretty cool, and not what I expected.
L'Orchestre national de France Plays "Bolero". I’ll close with this powerful, moving video.
I love you folks. We’ve made it to the end of another week that feels like a damn year. Let’s take this weekend to rest and recuperate, ‘cause lord knows we’ll need it. If you need anything, just hit reply to this email. I’m here for you, we’re all here for each other. This is a beloved community.