It’s a Saturday afternoon. You’re abiding by the new normal of staying home and flattening the infection curve. You turn on an online telethon to bring money into the Los Angeles Covid-19 fund.
And then you see Rick Lupert—a poet who has dealt out professional and personal discomfort to you.
You know how that went—he’s generally acclaimed in a certain subculture and is being seen today by more people than, say, a typical Cobalt Cafe reading. By being critical of him, you were seen as a sorehead and a loser.
So there’s a feeling of wanting to find the nearest paper bag and hyperventilate into it. Plus brooding over mistakes I made and unproductive thoughts.
In any event, it’s better to stay home (except for trips to supermarket/pharmacy), not infect or be infected and donate to charities and businesses which need cash infusions to pay employees.
That’s all I can do in the present and future.
Better than to muse about who prospers and who doesn’t.
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