We generally don't get to trace the effects of our actions, but because I just happened to read @vixy's latest journal entry, her generosity about donating leftover N95 masks made me feel guilty enough to dig out the ones I stashed away after the 2018 California fires ended, and figure out how to donate them to the nearest hospital, which I might not have done otherwise. But as soon as I thought about it, I realized that the chance of my needing them while stuck inside with my air purifiers and no fires currently raging, when I haven't been within a few feet of anyone for three weeks and so am unlikely to get sick, and there's no one around to infect if I do get sick, the chance it will do any good if I keep it is infinitesimal to the chance a hospital could use it, where they have infected patients and staff who have to get close to them. It's impossible for anyone to know whether Vixy's donation or mine will save a single person from getting ill; most likely all nine of mine will be worn for one day by healthcare workers who treat patients who turn out not to be contagious after all. Still worth a try.
In contrast, I can directly trace Vixy's message to my being able to finish my second COVID-19-related song. My errand to drop it off at the El Camino Health Foundation's next collection time (they have a facility comfortably far from the hospital and during those hours a table to drop them off at so I didn't need to hand it to anyone -- a nice
long table) took me on a very nice bike ride away mostly on trails and through a park. It was my second time out where I had a destination. Before that, I'd ventured outside to take out the trash and recycling and get a tiny bit of exercise and sunshine, but I found I'd played too many seasons of
Zombies, Run! over the years and it had eaten into my brain.
("A woman pushing a stroller! That''s two of them, and they're only eight feet away and closing! I think I can outrun them, though.")
And then on Monday I'd walked to the drugstore because I couldn't wait for a delivery of a product I'd suddenly found a need for. I'd recently learned the hard way one of the benefits of walking and biking every day like I'd been doing all of my adult life: as soon as I stop, I suddenly understand all those TV commercials from my childhood with o
ld people needing products they never quite explained. And I buy everything online but now I needed to go to an actual
brick-and-mortar store because Amazon is no longer able to do two-day delivery. Most irregular. As I was holding the product in my hand, I became conscious for the first time of the soundtrack playing on the drugstore speakers: Matchbox 20's
"Unwell". Very appropriate title for a drugstore, I guess. And suddenly there were a lot of obvious congruences to the current situation, and I started writing the song on my walk back. (Apparently there's some kind of weird connection between my songworm and my body, because just holding that product in my hands instantly loosened up a flood of ideas; I actually started working on a parody of the song that followed it too.)
But I was only able to finish the "Unwell" parody the next night (in one long intense sitting... in front of my computer, if you must know, same spot I've been working and attending virtual cons from for three weeks) after a bike ride that would have been very pleasant if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on social distancing. There were a lot of people out biking and jogging, many side by side. And that gave me the second verse. (I haven't actually been on a train or bus for many weeks.)
Here it is, in more or less finished form. I can't wait for a chance to do it next time at a filk circle, which after two weekends in a row will have to wait until ... what, _this Saturday_?! The filk world has short-circuited. I never would have flown to Portland for a house filk or Germany for a filkcon, but so far it's beginning to look like there's going to be a filk circle every weekend for the foreseeable future.
“Unwell” parody started 3/30/20
©4/1/2020 by Bob Kanefsky
All night
Nestled in my desk chair making
friends with thumbnails on a screen.
All day
hearing voices streaming and
it makes me feel all right
because at least it’s like my mind
went somewhere.
Holed up.
Hopefully we’re heading off the
Outbreak.
Too early to tell.
(I’m) not infected; I’m just a little unwell.
I think!
No tests; I can’t tell.
But nonetheless it’s always best you be
At least six feet from me.
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unnerved.
I think
Right now, you’re best served
To wash your hands and heed the CDC,
And stay six feet from me.
Please.
I’m paranoid enough in public:
Dodging strangers on the train.
And I see,
I see them sitting close together
Just like people used to
It’s as if some folks refuse to even try,
I guess,
Suppose they could be roommates, maybe
Lovers, under one roof.
(Chorus)
I’ve been workin’ from my home!
My commute is, like, six inches!
All my friends have been laid off...
(Chorus)
Yeah, at least six feet from me.
Stay six feet from me.
I’m just a little unnerved.
Stay six feet from me.
Stay six feet from me.
I'm just a little on edge.
[finished?! 3/31/20 11:20pm, finishing tweaks 4/1/20]