Flowering Forsythia

I’ve been in lockdown for a month. An itch to cross the border comes over me now once in a while, but with about 2000 known cases of the virus in the San Diego county, why would I want to go up there?

After all, I could remain south of the border, where there is no accurate count of the spread and everyone is in blissful ignorance to the extent of it. The official numbers seem unreasonably low for the state of Baja. But how will we ever know? Even with the internet you can’t find all the news. Or hide it. Whether it’s horse hockey or not. 
And there is so much of this horse hockey coming at me from all sides. From people who mean well. And people who I thought had better uh- discernment. While I have never parented a child, I feel like this is a small taste of what it’s like to be one. You have to sift through everyone else’s opinions on how best to take care of life. It’s such a weight of unneeded energies bearing down on a person. Why not smother people in things they need? – I mean really need. Oh, what is that you say? That takes too much time? Too much listening? You can’t afford to care? Well, people’s ego and the state of modern society are (disappointing) topics that will have to wait for another time. I can’t bear a deeper dive into that right now.
My one little light can only do so much against the dark. So I am not overwhelmed with the massive failings of the humans species, I trick myself into calm with diversion: jogging in place, accidentally burning myself with a hot glue gun while being crafty, making short improv movement videos, researching stuff. You know, diversions. 
One of those edifying research diversions came from my friends over at aromaticapoetica.com. They posted an invitation for you to (re)visit The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot with an active nose and consider the smells and flavors of the poem. I hadn’t been through that writing in a long time. Maybe I’ve never even been on that journey… I can’t remember… I’ve been in my own wastelands! Which, by the way, are also lilac scented and well- forsythia isn’t exactly hyacinth, I know, but, it’s my wasteland, OK? Not that famous, wanna-be imperial dude’s wasteland. 
It’s an interesting read. Or a listen. Do both! You will remember it better later if you see and hear the words. Plus, if you listen to the youtube link, you can appreciate how marvelous the Yorkshire accent is as Ted Hughes gets to read a few stanzas of the poem. It’s a lovely accent. The man himself, of course, not so much. 
It’s a long form poem with a slopping heap of allusion mashed into it. And let’s not forget the lines in several different languages. Thommo, my brah, showing off, is still showing off. (I should know, eh, eh?) And, as the internet tells me, he got made fun of for it in some likewise long-winded jab penned by H.P. Lovecraft, of all people.  
So with my heard swirled by poetic pomp, I furthered my distraction. I imagined a t-shirt with the slogan I survived the ‘T.S. Eliot’ Wasteland. It felt like such an appropriate lit-nerd thing to come up with. I even did a little graphic design work; as you can see at the top of this post. (I don’t use reading aids to surf the web so I apologize to any seeing impaired readers if my alt text description of the image sucks terribly.) It’s perhaps a little off-brand for aromaticapoetica.com but it was a quick and fun thing for me to make.  One small, clever amusement after another and I can keep going. Sort of. 

Clairvoyance

Wednesday I went to Tijuana and then across into San Diego. I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but it turns out that was the last time I’ll be making the crossing for at least a month. The border will be closed to ‘non-essential’ travel by midnight Friday- today.

It seemed like there were too many people outside even though it was pishing doon off and on all day. And, oh, there is supposed to be this highly contagious, potentially deadly virus going around. It was like folks were furiously trying to pretend nothing different is happening in their little end of the world.

The rain has been abundant recently, so at one point the car had to turn around and get on the toll road because of flooding.

The border crossing took about 40 minutes. Not a long time, but not that quick either.

The wet US roadways buzzed and hissed with drivers also desperately pretending nothing is changed; the pretending was so hardcore that there was a two car smash up on the freeway and reports of other accidents on the radio.

I was more than eager to get out and stretch my legs (my back!) after all the delays.

The homeless milled about as usual asking for change. Their habits didn’t seem much altered, as far as I could tell. The food joints all looked half open, uninviting. I ate my vegan burger in the car. It was, hands down, the tastiest pesto and fake mozzarella apocalypse burger I’ve had yet! 

The most surreal moment at the Trader Joe’s. Everyone had to wait their turn to be let inside. People seemed mutely stunned at the changes as we stood amid blooming plants for sale. A tent was set up so you wouldn’t get rained on.

An outgoing patron wrangler explained the new rules of shopping at the store. No limit on fish and produce, everything else limited to two of the same item. He enthusiastically reassured us that they had tons of food. When enough people exited, a worker pushed open the not so automatic sliding doors and a few of us filed in to get out hands spritzed with some cleaner.

The shelves were full enough. I guess they were withholding stock in the back room. The freezer usually full with ice creams, sorbets and such was noticeably not restocked.

I don’t know that I had never seen really San Diegans on their best behavior until now. Efficient, helpful, and polite- for real than more not, no artificial smiles and forced pleasantries. The casual small talk at the register came out a little more awkward as even the cashier was in mild shock and didn’t know exactly how to be cheery.

When heading out, a sweet faced worker handed me a single flower. Long stemmed white roses were being distributed to all the shoppers. What is this flower for? For boosting morale in this weird moment? For being inconvenienced by all the new store rules? For potentially risking my life to shop at their store? Why does this make me think of the Joe of Trader Joe’s who died recently? Do they hope to nerf the scythe by handing out roses? What ever the exact intention was –

I got a plague rose.  

We all were going home with groceries and white roses. That was perhaps the most curious moment of the whole day. It was so heavy with inexplicable significance. Spooky even. And I am not used to spooky happening in San Diego.

And then Thursday freak tornados appeared off the coast of Tijuana.

And then Friday the border closed.

I am taking this all of in stride. I am mentally prepared for distressing situations. Not that I have the healthiest coping mechanisms in place, but, let’s say, I’m used to the shite of life. It’s been interesting watching the rest of first world humanity figure out what it is like to feel… vulnerable.

This is 2020. I hold to my New Year’s wish that you all find clairvoyance (clear sight- 20/20 vision- remember that?) in these surreal times.

Want to help me stay productive during lockdown?

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com