Whiskey Story Shots

Nevermore #Writetogether

I'm on my balcony as I write this, in the sun and sitting on a pillow right next to the shelf I made. In my boredom, I severely overestimated my woodworking skills, but the shelf is standing, at least.

That's good.

Also, the sun is blinding me as I write. That's...good? Well, it's good that I'm getting fresh air, I guess. It's not good that the sun is blinding me.

Only a few months have passed, but to my addled brain, it feels like years. So many years of solitary confinement.

Did you know that solitary confinement is considered torture by the UN? It's true. The UN has repeatedly discouraged countries from utilizing solitary confinement as a means of punishment because of its adverse psychological effects. The deprivation of stimulation can cause panic attacks, heart palpitations, abdominal upset, weight loss, and even hallucinations.

Anyway, I've been trying to write. Writing keeps me sane, but as the days march on, writing has begun to lose its luster. Words that once flooded my mind have now begun to only trickle out, like the water dripping out of the leaky faucet I've been too lazy to try and fix.

I'm home all day. Why am I lazy?

I've tried to find beauty in the mundane. Take my new shelf, for instance. It's not crooked. That's beautiful. What isn't beautiful is the fact that I forgot to patch the holes where the wood screws went in a little too deep and poked out in the wrong places.

Whoops.

On the topic of depth, I try not to think too deeply. Deep thoughts poke through and create a massive negative spaces filled with worries. I'm far away from home and far away from my family, who are really the only ones who would care if something happened to me. I don't blame the people here for not caring. I am different and don't speak or look like them.

I am Other.

Because I don't fit in, they don't want me, and I want to be home. However, home is an ocean away. I am here, and my family is there.

It's best not to think too deeply.

Break.

I need a break, so I have decided to stop writing and instead stare at my phone.

~~~

Update, I failed. I don't know what I expected to see flash across my screen. Social media is depressing. The news is demoralizing. Also, he won't message me. He'd promised he would, but that had been before this, before the world had gone crazy.

Hey, what do you think the world will look like after all of this? Will the vaccine be mandatory? Will they even come up with a vaccine? Will the next disease be even more deadly? Whatever the next disease is, we aren't ready for it ...

This is bad, yeah. Though, none of us were alive during the most infamous wave of the Black Death from 1347 to 1351. As much as 60 percent of the population of Europe died in that one wave of pestilence. If 60 percent of just America died in a pandemic, then that would be a total of 196,920,000 people. Only America.

Global totals would be way scarier. If 60 percent of the global population died, then that would mean 4,680,000,000 people were dead.

Gone. Vanished. Poof. Let that sink in.

Deep thoughts.

Whoops.

Dang. I just noticed my shelf is wobbly. Oh, and I forgot nails in one place. How stupid do you have to be to forget nails when you build something? I bet my screws are loose, too.

That's not a deep thought. That one is just stupid.

Sit ups and coffee and plants have kept me going, too. Maybe I'll have abs by the end of this. That would be a beautiful thing. My lavender is growing. That's another beautifully mundane thing, but I need to re-pot my devil's ivy. He has grown too big, and his leaves are yellowing.

His leaves. That's interesting. I've gendered my plants.

For a while, I tried to read. That temporarily helped. Camus is good, but I had to take a break from the freedom of existentialism. It's refreshing but distressing. Yes, life is absurd, but do you have to be so blunt about it? Side note, don't read The Plague.

Or do. You can find it for free online if you're interested.

As Queen once said:

Nothing really matters,

Anyone can see,

Nothing really matters,

Nothing really matters, to me

Great. Now there's a flock of birds over me. What a horrible distraction. They've landed on my roof. Oh, they're crows. I guess it's a murder, not a flock. I hope I don't get pooped on in the same way life has sort of just shat on the universe recently.

Good. The crows flew away, but...shoot. It's raining. It wasn't supposed to rain today. I haven't sealed my shelf with waterproofing varnish yet. Hang on.

~~~

There we go. I rescued my shelf. Now, I'm sitting inside at my desk writing this and listening to the rain while waiting for the kettle to boil so that I can make my drip coffee. Thank God I bought a pour over kit for coffee before the world descended into madness. At least I can get a decent cup while in this solitary confinement. Until I run out of coffee grounds, that is.

Amazon delivery, I guess? I feel guilty for essential workers, though, so I try not to order things unnecessarily. But...coffee is life. Does that make me a horrible person?

Anyway, it's back to more waiting and more writing, but no deep thoughts. They'll worry me too much.

Oh? There's tapping at my window. It's a crow.

Wait. No. It's a raven. Why is it looking at me like that? Go away.

I feel like I've read something about this before.

Nevermore....