Raul,
I think you have a practical grasp of the dynamics of our vulnerable predicament as organisms, and that your sense of humor, even if bitter or morbid, is a kind of secret power at your service which will "talk you through" whatever processes your organism must endure. This is the story we can't write, our own living experience.
On the abstract level, I have much contempt and disdain for our species. Many of us are horrified by the similarities between our species and lower lifeforms such as cockroaches: feeding , fuchking, and fighting ... On a subjective level, we are each destined to witness the decay of our animal body. The only one who can talk you through this is you, and I am sure you will be reaping the harvest for having reflected so truthfully and fearlessly on the miserable nature of life itself.
We may be fortunate to have a couple people on this earth who will sincerely miss our presence.
If anyone just stops communicating here, we can only assume the worse. My nephew might have the sense to contact Holden in my case, but I doubt we will be informed should Holden pass - and I am fairly certain no one will be sending us word from Paraguay should you, Senor Raul, disintegrate into thin air ...
Maybe this global emergency might give everyone a temporary reprieve from the Business-as-Usual world. Upon witnessing the reactions of other human beings, my own honest internal reactions appear to be "inappropriate." If one laughs, we are accused of not taking the matter seriously enough. And yet, what if one is inspired by just how quickly "all the rules change" to suit the current, ever changing narrative of the "historians."
Whatever the nature of our lives is, we grapple with this inside our own heads, in our breathing body. Now may be a good time to re-read one's favorite works ... an opportunity to reflect on the tragic stupidity of some of the more arrogant members of our species. They will mourn the closing of their sports arenas and concert halls, their bars and clubs, their churches, mosques, synagogues, AA meetings, etc ... their "schools" ... and even their new State operated Marijuana Distribution Centers ...
The military will be called in to enforce "law and order" ...
Madmen like us, we poor prophets of doom just might survive the damn thing. Either way, I, for one, am prepared to wash my a-s-s in the bath tub; whereas the ladies may be addicted to toilet paper. As I said, there are so many in denial of the miserable nature of their very own lives. That denial will be difficult for them to maintain as their illusionary universe falls to pieces, bit by bit.
All one can pray for is to be a good sport about it, whatever comes.
May we suffer well, and may we not suffer for too long ... Maybe there will be peace in the end.
All's well that ends well?
Holden,
I am wondering how Silenus is doing, and Ibra ... Maybe the Clown gave Silenus the creeps.
On a humorous note: My mom panics at the thought of running out of toilet paper.
It's just as well I am trapped here with my mom. If I had been living the way I was 5 years ago, there is a good chance I would not want to expose my mother to myself since i would have been hitting all the free meals and hand-out zones. My mom needs me for everything, and even though this is a ridiculous life, I might not be so grounded were I a lone male out there alone, howling and whispering to the moon!
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To all:
"The gods hide the happiness of death from man that he might endure living."
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My apologies if I sound as though I am detached from the "global event." I guess it will have different effects on different people. I'm going to try to just continue being myself. If my cockroach body gets attacked by the bug, I will try not to be a complete infant; but I do not suffer well. Even a head cold feels like some kind of torment in Hell.
I am sure to curse the gods ... the devils as they free this animal body from its attachment to organic life.
There is surely something surreal when such an outbreak is global. There is no need to distract ourselves with horror or science fiction literature. Our reality is stranger than fiction.
Nor is there a reason to add to the number of books written by members of our species.
May we each reap the harvest of our own deep reflections upon this miserable existence which everyone has been brainwashed since childhood to speak of as "the precious gift of life."
Plagues are a part of this life, and we are each destined for the graveyard.
Would any of the already dead choose to return to this madhouse prison planet given the choice?