#and that something is wearing a fucking mask at the grocery store and doctors office

[affixjoy]

A lot of Covid feelings today. But the main thought I’m having today is that I hope the kids never forgive us. I hope when they grow up and realize how much their generation has been fucked over by chronic illness caused by Covid they never forgive the people who decided it was okay to infect them over and over again. I hope all the people who I talk to about it and seem to understand but then go back to taking no steps to stop the spread have to sit with the guilt in their stomachs forever. They’ll throw up their hands and say they didn’t know but I’ve been here screaming about it at the top of my lungs for years, along with a lot of other people.

I hope my son looks at the pictures of us in masks here in 2024 and knows I tried so hard to protect him. If we make it another two weeks he’ll have avoided Covid the first 3 years of his life, which shouldn’t be huge but IS huge when almost every other kid we know has had it multiple times.

It doesn’t have to be this fucking hard guys. If more people just gave a fuck about not spreading airborne illness things would be so much easier. I’m not even that strict with precautions! I’m not advocating for lockdowns! I just want more people to mask, I want masks and tests to be free, I want people who are sick to have paid sick leave, I want money to be put into upgrading the air systems in public spaces. This all feels very minimal and reasonable and yet somehow it’s a fringe position???

Today is a bad day and I’m feeling very angry. It didn’t have to be this way.

[doctorguilty]

griping about popular post but I don't wanna comment on it and potentially get too much attention and dogpiled

bad and terrible take I'm sorry like the "individual action is not effective" because "the fundamental problem is [higher institution]" is applicable to stuff like, "reducing your carbon footprint by driving electric cars and using metal straws makes minimal impact on the planet because multi billion dollar corporations are deep frying the planet" and even THAT concept has more to do with like personal sacrifice vs personal accountability.

For example if I spend extra money on sustainable eco-friendly food products and exhaust my food budget so that I go hungry at the end of the month, for the sake of individual action to like help save the earth, it is not worth hurting myself for because no amount of only purchasing free-range eggs will make an impact equal to me as a human being with basic needs and rights to food. And being guilt tripped and told I'm selfish for eating cheap eggs instead so that I have enough money to eat every day is bullshit.

At the same time, it DOES NOT mean that because your individual actions are small in the grand scheme of things, it is a waste of effort to do actions that DON'T negatively impact your life, health, or wallet. Like separating recycles from the trash, buying affordable cotton/wool/leather clothing instead of stuff made of plastics, those are still worthwhile things to do if you HAVE the ability, if you ARE capable.

Equating masking to the like, propaganda of "individual actions are necessary self sacrifice, go green at the cost of your well being while we spill 300 tons of oil into the ocean" is stupid, it's not the same thing. It's more like the separating-your-recycles thing but not even that either. Because it's not about the nebulous concept of "the planet" or the "wildlife and forests", it's about your NEIGHBORS, your fellow people at their jobs and at the store and living their lives, doing something individual for THEM, and it does ABSOLUTELY matter and make an impact.

It makes a HUGE impact every single day what you choose to do around other people; wearing a mask could be the difference between, what, you wearing a piece of cloth over your face that is uncomfortable sometimes? versus a cashier getting sick and having to stay home from work and lose a chunk of their paycheck, versus a child at the store catching your infection and bringing it to school with them and they all bring it home to their families, versus an elderly person who lives alone taking care of themselves, becoming bedridden and no one can get them groceries or pick up their medication at the pharmacy.

That stuff REALLY fucking matters and that doesn't even start breaking ground of disabled people, that op was really quick to throw under the bus?? oh society has forsaken them, it's an institutional, such a shame. nothing we can do about it. (also like. who was even talking about cons or events when it came to any of this.......because as far as I know everyone was like, please just wear a mask when you go to the store. to the doctor's office. like wha?)

oh, you feel bad it's being "moralized"? you don't like feeling personally responsible? it's uncomfortable when us undesirables are forsaken by everyone in power and all we can do is beg and plead to be considered by the average person in our vicinity? like honestly, op is right in the sense that the hard statistics when it comes to how much of an impact 1 person in a crowd of 500 don't really matter, but you know when I see that 1 person I think, god at least someone cares. Like. I mean it's complete misinfo to say it does nothing for disease transmission but since people don't care about THAT anyway, then yeah it IS a moral issue and you should feel bad about it! you should feel bad ignoring our voices, you should feel bad when we die, and you should feel bad if all it takes to even communicate to us, "I hope my choice does matter enough to save even 1 person in the world" is wear a piece of cloth on you face and you think that's equitable to corporate ceos guilting you over not driving hybrid cars while they tear down forests to build parking lots over, you think disabled people asking for a sliver of consideration on par with like, taking the grocery cart back to the return so it doesn't smack into someone's car is the same thing as oppressive institutions scapegoating poor people and profit from it...... like I think you've lost the plot, terribly.

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 121

July 10

Grocery day again, this time less about groceries and more about all the other stuff we need or that I wanted to stock up on. Turns out it is still not possible to get sanitizer or disinfecting wipes by pickup, but I did get the brand of toilet paper I wanted and although I had to show my license for it, my cough syrup as well. Even generic cough syrup is quite expensive when you aren't buying it off the clearance rack at the end of cold season! (Cold season never ended this year, nor are clearance racks in the store nearly so much of a thing people are scouring, so that's a bummer.) Hopefully this will be the last groceries we need this month, since we will be spending the last part of the month at my folks' place, celebrating my sister's wedding as carefully as possible. 

The trip's only about ten days away now (feels like we just got home, sheesh!) so we're starting to think about logistics and packing and precautions. We've got lots of masks and sanitizer, and we're doing our best to stay out of trouble before we go. Today I got an email from my sister and her fiance detailing precautions they will be taking and that they'd like for us to take, including a COVID test for everyone who will be attending, if possible. There are a couple of places around here that will do it for anybody without an appointment or a referral, though I feel kind of bad doing it with no symptoms. At the same time, apparently it's a good sign if only 5% of tested people have COVID, so maybe we'll be helping? I dunno. 

I do know that I definitely don't want to pass coronavirus to my parents because my mom is still touting hydroxychloroquine even after all the tests say it does more harm than good. Apparently her chiropractor friends have assured her that the reasons the tests failed was because HCQ was not paired with zinc, which fights colds and is also apparently the key to making HCQ work. I wanted to ask if this was real science or science like the time we had to put collodial silver on our cuts and rugburns for a few months because her friends said it was science magic, but I did not. I also did not inquire if this was the same chiropractor friend who did not get to hold my baby anymore after he started swinging the infant Kiddo around to give him an "adjustment" without so much as fucking asking,  because I know that it was. Anyway, she says that if she gets sick she's going to make my dad insist that instead of being put on a vent she should be treated with hydroxychloroquine and zinc, and my pleas that she really ought to let her doctor who went to actual medical school make medical decisions if she gets sick fell on deaf ears. Add that and my mother in law's difficulty in relying on medical advice to the fact that my father will not stay off the goddamned roof and I have to wonder if something happens at 65 or so that makes every person completely insane about taking care of their health. Maybe when I'm 64 and a half I will give a healthcare power of attorney to the kiddo, just in case. 

The only other big thing that happened today was our lease renewal. We decided to stay in our apartment another year because I hate moving more than poison and this place has treated us okay so far. They did not raise our rent, which is nice because it was already very high, and pretty much everything is staying the same. Here's hoping that next year we will be able to use the pool, playground, exercise room and all the other amenities we are paying for! We didn't even get to go in the leasing office; instead they brought the lease out to our car and we signed it there. This will be year three in this unit, and three is a good year because it means amortization starts working in our favor when it comes to stains on the carpet. See, the basic rule for apartment carpet is that it has an assumed life of five years before normal wear and tear wears it out. So if you are in an apartment one year and the carpet is messed up when you move out, you are liable for 80% of the replacement cost of new carpet, assuming your carpet was new when you moved in. After three years, you're more than halfway through the lifespan of your carpet already, so it's a matter of diminishing returns for the leasing company to go after you for any stains when you move out. This is not a calculus that always works with private landlords, but it's pretty reliable with leasing companies and apartment complexes. And yes, I've done a lot of haggling over spills on carpets in our sixteen years of apartment rentals, why do you ask? 

News in the world and in politics remains terrible and infuriating, but the kittens are continuing to make progress and Barry hardly hissed at me at all today! What a good boy! I also signed us up for a Spotify family account after I realized that it is possible to get Spotify Kids with a family account and thereby allow the kiddo to listen to more than just podcasts or the Hamilton soundtrack over and over. Totally worth it! I still think it's kind of stupid that an iPhone where the owner is listed as under 12 cannot download regular Spotify at all, even with the parental control password, but this is a good workaround and gives me lots of music to listen to as well. The more entertainment, the better! 

[thesgp]

COVID19 and Veterinary Clinics

I don’t know if anyone cares or if anyone has already talked about this, especially since we know how mass panic and hoarding has effected everyone. But I just wanted to shout into the void a little. (Anytime I try to write something on the internet about animal care I get SO MUCH hate because heaven forbid everyone has an opinion on a medical science. Do not bother contacting me if you disagree, I do not give a single fuck. I work in this industry and I already know it’s not worth debating with anyone who isn’t educated in this field.)

First off, at lest here in CO, most ER veterinary hospitals and corporate owned GP small animals practices are remaining open. I’m sure it depends on a case by case bases, but if you live in CO and are having trouble finding veterinary care for whatever reason, I can tell you some options that are remaining open. 

We do ask that if you are sick, to STAY HOME. I have had clients who are coughing still bring their animals to the vet. They did not have COVID19, thankfully. But in general we still have to stand in a small space with you and take a history. 

In fact, stay home unless your pet is sick or you absolutely NEED those vaccines updated. That’s more just my recommendation so you stay safe though. 

Look, I understand a lot people get anxious about taking their animals to the vet. I also like to be present in the room with my pet during exams. But while we’re trying to slow the spread of disease please be patient and understanding that most clinics are going to be asking you to wait outside or that they take animals to their treatment area. Again, small spaces, air born disease on the rise. You gotta work with us or we do have the right to refuse to see your pet. 

At this time the CDC does not believe pets can get COVID19, but if your are sick they suggest avoid cuddling with pets and if you can, have another member of your household, friends or family care for them. (Animals can get a type of coronavirus that is species specific and it is not the strain we are currently concerned about in people.)

People can literally google this shit. I don’t understand how someone can spend hours looking into bullshit homeopathic treatments for renal disease (NEWS FLASH THERE ARE NONE!) but will call the vet to ask if animals get COVID19. That’s all I’m going to say on that. 

The CDC already has more information out on this here.

Also check out their Healthy Pets, Healthy People page.

If you are hoarding supplies or know anyone hoarding supplies, I beg you to consider/convince them to donate unopened supplies to local shelters and veterinary hospitals. We don’t resell things like hand soap or toilet paper or paper towels. We actually get these from suppliers such as Costco, Sams Club, Staples, Office Depot. We’re currently experiencing a shortage of these supplies. And maybe we can make due without the toilet paper and paper towels, we’re smart we’ll figure that shit out. But HAND SOAP we need. We need to be able to wash our hands between each of our patients. In my hospital I see about twenty patients per day. Over all my hospital will see between 40-60 patients every day, and we generally have 2-3 doctors and 6-8 techs staffed each day. I can’t imagine what a bigger ER and specialty hospital needs. (Actually I kinda can since I came to GP from ER and Specialty, but it’s still too much to really wrap my mind around.)

We also need masks. We use these during surgeries and dental procedures. And I know there are people out there hoarding them. My hospital is at the point where we are having to save and reuse masks for certain procedures. Don’t want me breathing on your dogs open abdominal cavity bro? Maybe you shouldn’t be hoarding masks. (We would never actually do that, we’d probably just have to refer the surgery else where, at least in my hospital.) 

Do you need to wear a mask? Here’s some info about that from Mayo Clinic.

I’ve also got a special “Fuck You” list for the people who are stealing exam gloves from the vet. Just fuck you dude. We’ve got cameras in the room. We see what you’re doing. Fuck you.

We also need gloves. (I’m referring to common exam gloves, exam gloves are not the same as the sterile gloves we use for surgical procedures.) We use these gloves to stick our fingers up animals asses every. single. day. We use these when we have to do deep ear cleanings, clip and clean wounds, dental procedures, and to protect ourselves when animals have Zoonotic diseases. 

I personally have had my hands on patients with lepto, ringworm, scabies, staph. and thank all the powers at be for gloves. But those exam gloves aren’t going to help you stay safe from COVID19. (Literally saw this woman in the grocery store wearing exam gloves and then she took out her phone and was using her phone, gloves on. Like come on, it’s gloves you don’t need a manual to know how to use them properly, but if you do, they probably aren’t helping you anyway!)

Anyway thanks for listening to me ramble, hope y’all stay safe. 

[imagining-sio]

Red Blood & Heart of Gold II

Summary: Guess who bitches

Jason Todd x reader

Chapter 2

————————————————————————

“You picked a hell of a place to die, honey.” the lead man scoffed.

“Technically you picked it,” I smirked.

“You’re gonna regret that honey.” the man was just ready to pull the trigger.

“Famous last words.” A voice rang out through the cemetery.

“What the fuck.” the lead man pulled my own weapon away from my forehead. The other four began to whirl just as wildly. A fog seemed to emanate from the marshy cemetery, through the deluge. Only adding a sense of terro rto the situation I was in.

I took the opportunity to yank the lead goon onto the ground, quickly trying to subdue him in order to get a hold of my belongings, the priority being my own weapon. I elbowed him in the face; well mask, as we wrestled, the gun was strewn in an unknown direction. The man rolled over, pinning my back to the earth. Gunshots fired off nearby, and screams were heard, but the most pressing matter was the man in front of me.

In the midst of the struggle, he somehow slipped on some brass knuckles and began punching into my side. I felt the agonizing pain but I refused to give up. I retaliated by kneeing him in the groin, although it seemed to not do me any good.

“You bitch!” His voice evident that he was struggling as well. As he began to try an reach into his pocket again, I head butted him, thus removing him from atop of me. I scrambled to find the gun, endlessly searching with my hands amongst the thick fog. A hand grabbed my ankle and dragged me backwards. I shrieked, my fingers digging into the earth for some sort of resistance. I tried kicking the man repeatedly with my free leg, but to no avail. The man pulled out a knife just as my eyes spotted my strewn pistol. I reached toward the pistol, only to feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. The man now towered over me, with my own blood cascading down the blade of the serrated knife, dripping on my face.

“Say goodnight, sweetheart.”

A gun went off, spraying the man’s blood all over me. He flopped on top of me, and I frantically crawled out from under him, not caring I was just beaten and stabbed no less. Replacing his once towering figure was alone man. The smoke still slowly spilled out of the gun. The lightning flashed in the background, illuminating his red helmet.

“Goodnight.” he said lowly.

This was not happening.

I pointed my pistol directly at him. He stood unfazed by the item, or the woman lying on the ground, beaten and bleeding.

“I just saved your life and you are gonna kill me?”

“GPD, ass-hat.”

“Yes, you did a wonderful job of throwing a wrench through my plans tonight. Thank you, Officer.”

I groaned as I stood up. He killed not only the five men I opportunistically tailed, but the other eight that were his bait in to the trap. I did not want to take any chances, keeping my pistol trained on him even though the pain in my shoulder was growing worse and worse.

“That’s Detective Jones to you, Hood. Now, if you would kindly put your weapons down, and put your hands on your head.”

“We’re really gonna do this?” he sighed. Like he didn’t want to fight. “I just did you a favor.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you aren’t Judge Dredd, now get down on the ground.” I rebutted, yet he refused to move. I started to notice that my vision was getting a little fuzzy.

“Look I don’t wanna hurt you,” he started, “But-“ his head caught the bouquet of flowers upon my friend’s tombstone. His figure stiffened, a soft “holy shit” cursing out of his mouth. Well, helmet.

“I won’t ask again.” I slurred, my legs growing weak. My vision getting worse.

“Shit! Hang on, Jones.” He easily disarmed me, flicking the safety back on before placing it back into my holster. I collapsed in his grip. His gloved hands were surprisingly gentle, holding me upright by my waist. He gracefully slid one up my back, and the other hooked under my knees; lifting me up off the ground like I weighed nothing. He turned in the direction of the all too bright glistening lights, ones that only an hour ago, were nothing to me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“As of right now; it’s a work in progress, Jones.” he replied, his tone was frantic.

“C’mon you gotta stay with me, detective.” He drew me from unconsciousness.

My vision was now permanently blurred, and I fought tooth and nail to keep my eyes from closing. The pain in my shoulder was a blistering, burning sensation. My entire body felt heavy. I had gone far enough in life not being stabbed in any shape or form, so it’s my fucking luck that the one time I return to my hometown, the crime capital of the world; I get stabbed. Disregard the fact I’ve already been here for a month. The situation still stands.

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Red Hood groaning. It wasn’t from muscle pain however.

“Really old man?” He asked my attention turning to the cloaked figure standing a few feet away from my own motorcycle, and the one that was much more modern than my old bobber style. It most likely belonged to Hood.

“What did you do?” The bat asked angrily.

“Take a wild guess; Bats.” he was careful as he spoke, like he knew I was still conscious.

“Look; this wasn’t supposed to happen, just let me fix this; … please.” he pleaded with the bat.

“Gotham central is the closest hospital. You better hurry.”

Hood breathed a relieved sigh as he ushered me onto his motorcycle. He made sure I sat in the front of him

“This isn’t over.” The bat said, his last words before I lost consciousness.

————————————————————————

When I came to, everything was way too bright.

“Ow.” I mumbled. My hand reached for my head, only to find an IV strapped to it. Looking around, I was soon able to recognize where I was. The extreme brightness were do to the fluorescent lights and the white walls. the only thing that looked to be color were the chairs and my folded clothing upon the bedside table. The windows were drawn shut, and I couldn’t tell whether or not it was day or night given from what peeked through the cracks. It was still raining, so that was a sign, maybe.

“How are you feeling.” the gravelly voice returned.

“Like shit,” I grumbled as I spotted his fuzzy form from the corner, Gordon was asleep in the chair beside me. However, the other figure lurking in the corner stuck out like a sore thumb. Though, that’s what happens when you dress in all black and wear a cape in a hospital room.

“What happened?” I asked, my hand coming up to soothe my pounding head.

“You were attacked,” the Bat deadpanned, “You have a cracked rib among your three bruised. You also have a heavy concussion so try not to move around so much.”

I stared blankly at him.

“Those men could have killed you.“

“Yeah I got that. Why do you care? I’m trying to arrest you just as much as I am Black Mask and Red Hood.” He stood silent.

“I am on your side, (Y/N). I’m here to help.”

“What else did Gordon tell you?”

“Enough.”

“Really, what did you two chat over coffee?”

He gave a small smirk.

“That’s unsettling; stop it.”

“We’ve talked before.”

“Noticed. Look don’t expect me to be grateful because you got me here, okay?”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Mind telling how you knew where I was? And how did you know where Red Hood would be there?”

“Clairvoyance.”

“Humor is not your strong suit.”

He raided a masked brow.

“You should get some rest. I’ll be in touch.” The bat walked out the door, unnoticed by the passing staff.

I was only reminded with why I hated Gotham.

————————————————————————

It had been a couple of weeks since the incident at the graveyard. I managed to get Gordon out of worrying over me with every shallow breath I took. I understood where he was coming from, given everything that happened with Barbara, but I had very thin patience. I got paid leave from the force, and they let me work from home; by home I mean my grandmother’s old apartment. She moved away but gave a good word to the landlord which gave me the apartment. Which is great, not Monica’s apartment but it’s up there, maybe.

The unsettling part was that it was across the street from where I grew up. I would walk by what used to be my childhood home every day, and instead of children playing it was met with gang members upon the steps. Jason’s house was two doors down, it shared the same fate as mine.I was physically able to go get some groceries from the mini-mart on the corner, but living on the top floor certainly had its downsides.

Stairs.

Stairs were the absolute worst. Hulking up six flights with handfuls of bags was not something that the doctor recommended, but I was stubborn enough not to want to take two whole trips. Besides, I was getting tired of microwavable Ramen noodles.

I grunted up the final flight of steps, my front door coming into view. The cactus themed doormat stood out against the linoleum tiled hallway. Setting one handful of bags down between my legs and the door, I began to sift through my messenger bag for my keys. There was a great relief as I unlocked the door, shuffling myself inside with all of my goods.

I tossed my keys into the empty fruit bowl upon the counter, heaving the groceries onto the breakfast bar. I quickly began to store the items I bought, the orange juice and the milk going into the fridge while other meals went into either the freezer or pantry. There was an eerie silence as the fridge light was the only thing illuminating the entire apartment. Distant sounds of thunder were now far too close, the lightning ushering in another nightly downpour upon Gotham. Throwing the plastic bags into a small drawer, I dusted off my hands and began walking into the unlit apartment.

A bright flash of lightning made me stop in my tracks. Not because it was too bright or too close, oh no.

There was someone in the apartment with me. Sitting in my armchair.

My late Grandmother’s favorite armchair.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” he said from beneath that stupid red helmet. Personally, it wasn’t all that intimidating to me, his recent escapades however, they were a different story.

I instinctively put a hand on the concealed weapon upon my waistband.

“Would you relax? I’m not here to hurt you.” he said, unmoving, unflinching from his spot. Lightning flashed a second time, thunder following close behind, only adding to the tension in my own apartment.

“How long-“

“Long enough to judge your tastes there, honey.” he answered. I could almost hear that smirk.

“Why?”

“Wanted to check on you, see how you were holding up.” he stood up, but I swear I heard a soft grunt of pain as he did so.

“I highly doubt that.” I cocked an eyebrow, questioningly.

“Oh do you, detective.” he seethed through his teeth, by the sound of it at least, you can really tell with his face muffled beneath that red helmet.

“You’re hurt.”

“I would love to prove you wrong, but unfortunately, I may pass out.” he began to teeter on his own feet. If I weren’t there to catch him, he may have fallen unconscious. Simply feeling around for any contusions I felt blood upon my hands.

“If I find out you bled on my favorite chair; I will kill you myself.” I ushered him to the nearest, and frankly, only bathroom in my place of residence.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, honey; wouldn’t be the first time.” he chuckled, only to cough painfully.

I flicked the light to the bathroom on with my elbow, setting him down on my toilet so I could grab the first aid kit from the linen closet. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing his compression shirt with a bullet hole in his side. He was slightly hunched over, his knuckles were bloody, but more importantly they were bare, revealing his ivory skin tone.

I set the kit down onto the rim of the bathtub, grabbing the washcloth upon the rail.

“Shirt off, now” I began to dowse the washcloth in the rubbing alcohol. He chortled.

“Should you take me out to dinner first.” I rolled my eyes, how did I know he was going to say that.

“Helmet too, Red.” I gestured to his head.

“Whatever you say, doll face.”

————————————————————————

Message me if you would like to be tagged!!

[thetruthaboutlovecomesat3am]

😏 I am here to spam, friend. 1. “I am not here to kill you! I’m here for bread!”

Blackhill, can be considered a companion piece to yesterday’s prompt (because of the claws and claw marks metaphore, but doesn’t need to be read to read this or viceversa (can you tell I’m into weird metaphore and dark stuff lately?) Enjoy! (also if someone knows why Tumblr keeps fucking up my spacing on mobile please lemme know cause it makes me wanna cry)

Maria ison medical leave when it happens. Two weeks mandatory leave until herarm has healed properly, so the doctor said. She’s at the grocerystore two blocks away from her apartment and this is too close for itto be a coincidence, for her to be here by mistake.

They sayBlack Widow likes to set her traps, likes to act like the creaturewhose name she’s made her own, likes to arrange a web and wait forher prey to fall into it all on their own so that, really, they onlyhave themselves to blame for being so reckless, they have to shareher blame and guilt in their own demise.

When Mariaspots her, in that grocery store, there might as well be web threadsscattered all around her, because there is no doubt this is where shefalls into a trap.

She hasher gun aimed between Black Widow’s eyes before the woman even fullyturns to her, her left hand is steady but it’s still her weak handand she’s sure she doesn’t stand a chance if the Black Widow came forher, not with her broken wing.

“Youcame here to kill me, in a grocery store, while I’m on medical leave?That’s low, even for you,” she sees green eyes look in surprise atthe barrel of her gun, then travel up, up, up until they meet her ownand recognition finally reaches them.

Her handsslowly go up. “I’m not here to kill you! I’m here for bread!” Sheslightly shakes the hand that’s holding a loaf of it.

Mariascoffs and keeps her gun steady, trying to decide what to do next.

“Hard tobelieve Red Room sent you grocery shopping.”

“I don’twork with them anymore.”

“Hard tobelieve that, too.”

Sheshrugs, then throws the bread in Maria’s general direction. She hasthe gun in one hand and the other is held against her torso by hersling, so her only option is to duck and lose sight of Black Widowfor all of two seconds. That’s all it takes for her to disappear intothin air.

The nextsixteen hours, Maria barely breaths. She thinks about calling Fury,calling for back-up, or just going to the Triskelion and lock herselfup in her office until she’s sure New York is safe again. But shewon’t let fear win. So she waits it out.

Sureenough, Black Widow finds her apartment easily, breaking in throughthe window like Maria Hill doesn’t live on the fifth floor of abuilding with no fire escape stairs. Maria has been waiting, gun inhand, her right arm sore since she’s stopped taking painkillers, buther mind is already clearer.

Mariadoesn’t need to ask why her and why now; Black Widow’s an assassin,but she’s also a hacker and it wouldn’t be too hard to know she’s onleave and in New York. With her right arm out of order. Then again,of all the things they don’t know about Natalia Romanova they do knowsomething for sure, she never had a taste for mercy. Maria’s an easytarget and Black Widow doesn’t miss.

“I’m nothere to kill you.”

Mariadoesn’t believe her.

“I’mhere to surrender myself.”

Mariadoesn’t believe that, either. But she knows that there’s no other wayout for her but lowering her gun and taking Black Widow where shewants to be taken, she knows nobody has ever survived her if shehadn’t want them to. Her skin feels sticky when she gets up andgestures with her gun to the door, motioning for the other woman towalk ahead of her, like she just walked into a spider web face first.

When shewas little, so young she barely remembered it, she found a small birdwith a broken wing in her backyard, she brought it to her grandmotherand asked her to help her fix him. She took him to a vet, had hiswing set, fed him water through a dropper, loved him instantly andimmensely. Her grandmother told her not to get attached, becausebirds were not meant to be kept in cages. The bird healed, then flewaway unevenly, his wing not quite the same it had been before,mindless to the fact that Maria still loved him.

That’swhat happens when a cat hunts, when he takes a bite of you. You’renever quite the same you had been before. But you fly, if thealternative is staying in a cage.

Maria hadtried to convince her grandmother to keep him; she named him Charlieand loved him even though her grandma said she shouldn’t. She couldnot bring herself to keep him in a cage, but she cried when he flewaway.

Shewondered if birds loved cats, if they got too close sometimes and itwas just a cat’s nature to make a prey out of them because of theircuriosity. She wondered if humans were like that sometimes, too.

Marialoved her father, even though she shouldn’t have. She learned quicklyhow to adapt to cages and broken wings and how some humans werehunters by nature.

Marialoved picking fights, the taste of lemon liquor, and motorcycles. Hergrandmother was right; she had always loved things she shouldn’thave.

She neverquite liked cats, never learned how to love their ways of coming andgoing, never knew that love sometimes doesn’t mean staying, that itcan mean coming back.

NatashaRomanoff is dangerous and hard and the last thing Maria should everlearn to do is love her. She learns it anyway.

NatashaRomanoff comes and goes, like a cat, and is sometimes gone for weeks.She doesn’t love Maria back, but that is not a problem and kind offoregone. Maria plays the prey part well, knows when to let herselfget caught and when to run away, and Natasha keeps chasing her likethere’s nothing else in the world worth a second glance until she’sgot her.

There’srumors and labels thrown around S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters: BlackWidow is a sociopath; Black Widow is a psychopath; Black Widow is afrail girl in desperate need of saving; Black Widow is a story, alegend and nothing more, Natasha Romanoff just wears her mask well.Maria knows these to be lies, some more than others.

NatashaRomanoff enters her apartment through the window, even when shedoesn’t have to, because she doesn’t like to knock and get invitedin, rather she chooses where to be and when. She shows affection withno words but just by being there, like a cat. Maybe, Maria thinks ona night she’s feeling particularly honest with herself, there is noaffection at all to be shown. Natasha likes to use her, likes the wayMaria makes her feel human, likes the way Maria is inclined to give,give, give until there’s nothing left to gift. She likes how Mariahates people but likes her, lets her get away with things she neverwould stand in someone else.

Natashaisn’t sure she can even feel love. What she can feel, especially whenthey’re in a state of undress that makes it blatantly obvious Mariais completely disarmed, is the distinct lack of the urge to get ridof her. She usually gets that with everyone she has to spend morethan ten minutes with, she prefers to be on her own. But Maria isokay, kind of. She doesn’t hate having her close by, she has grown tobarely dislikes the look in her eyes when Maria looks at her, and shesometimes even likes to stay after they have sex for no other reasonbut the soothing rhythm of another human being’s heart – notMaria’s, she tells herself, just any heart. She wonders if she’slying to herself, but decides she doesn’t care.

Mariashouldn’t get attached to her, shouldn’t fall in love with stickyhands from the webs around her, shouldn’t be indifferent to the factthat, if this is a trap, she’s already fallen in it a long timebefore.

She fallsin love slowly but immensely, with the constant knowledge that,unavoidable as it is, Natasha can’t love her back.

Mariacan’t bring herself to care, or to stop.

For a longtime, Maria doesn’t trust Natasha further than her hand can reach.She waits for the trap to snap, she waits for the fallback. Theyunravel together, trust can only work that way, they learn how to bedefenseless with each other and it’s recharging, those walls theykeep up are exhausting.

Natashahas a cat, pitch black, named Liho. Maria hates her and the cat hatesMaria, they avoid each other as much as possible, until one nightMaria sees her staring at her from the floor while she’s pouring aglass of water and decides to squat down and holds her hand up. Lihosniffs it with disinterest, then gives it a tentative lick. She gnawsat Maria’s fingers, then tries to catch one between her paws whenMaria wiggles them.

When sherises after a couple of minutes, her palm as a small scratch and abite mark. She wonders if maybe she had it wrong all this time, ifmaybe it’s cats who love birds and sometimes get too close and end uphurting them because they have no other way to love them.

Thatthought hurts her a little and she feels a sadness she can’t explain.

Natashalikes that Maria doesn’t hold the fact that she can’t love her backagainst her. It makes her feel guilty, sometimes, that she can’t giveher that, that she can’t love Maria the way Maria seems to love her.On her part, Maria is careful never to say it and to only show itwhen it can’t be helped.

Natashaknows it stings, it harshly tugs something inside Maria that she’snever let anyone reach before, she knows she’s leaving claw marks allover Maria’s heart, but she can’t help it; this is the only way sheknows how to be with her.

It’sunfair.

She triesto cut her own claws off. Gives Maria a key to her apartment, keepslemon liquor – she hates it, hates the taste of it, hates the veryidea of it – next to her favorite vodka in her cabinet, she letsMaria leave stuff, bit by bit, until her things are scatteredthorough Natasha’s place, she tries not to hurt her anymore.

Mariadoesn’t seem overly concerned. She never asks Natasha to love herback, to hold her hand or stupid stuff like that, to tell theirfriends they’ve been seeing each other for months, for over a year atthis point.

She letsNatasha take, take, take, up until the day Natasha starts giving.Giving her a key, space, liquor, giving her anything she can think ofgiving Maria so she can be as content as Natasha feels on the nightsshe gets to sleep with Maria’s heartbeat under her ear.

One time,Maria mentions wanting to learn how to brew beer and Natasha signsthem up for a class, giving as the only explanation: “Anything youwant, I can get it for you.”

Marialooks at her funny, she knows Natasha means that she can get anythingfor her in lieu of loving her back, but she also knows, Clint is likea brother to her and he once asked her to borrow five bucks andNatasha laughed in his face, insulted capitalism, and left him withan empty stomach and the knowledge she didn’t like to take care ofothers like she didn’t care when others took care of her.

The thingis, Natasha takes care of Maria in every single way she can.

Mariaknows it before her, maybe that’s why she never asks anything of her,she never asks to be loved back.

One day,she just points at Natasha’s chest after she spent an hour cookingMaria’s favorite dish, and tells her: “That thing that makes you dothis kind of stuff, listen to that thing and tell me it’s notscreaming love.”

Natashascoffs, but listens carefully. That thing inside her has no claws,doesn’t hurt, doesn’t take but likes to give. That thing inside her,if she indulges it, will fill up her whole body with its warmth andstrength. That thing has no reason to be there, but it is,nonetheless. Natasha wonders for how long Maria has known Natashaloved her, how long she could hear it from inside her chest, whenNatasha refused to hear it herself.

Natashadidn’t walk inside that grocery shop to kill her, wasn’t there to seta trap. Maria fell into it anyway.

[stone-man-warrior]

March 24, 2021: 5:43 pm:

=================================================

I am past six weeks after having been attacked by a terror soldier who injected me with some kind of poison in my lower leg. There are no doctors who treat US Citizens, so I am left without medical care, have to deal with all of the injuries I get all on my own having learned the hard way about the terror takeover of the hospitals, urgent care offices, and all of the physicians offices in Oregon.

There is no where to get medical treatment, so, I have been documenting the healing, or lack thereof, as time progresses.

Oddly, no one has offered any help online either.

The foot is staying blue, is cold, I have to keep a heater of some kind on my foot all of the time, otherwise the intense cold feeling is more than I can bear. My hands are also cold much of the time, as if ice is inside my blood vessels.

The poison was injected on top of, and in addition to, a different condition, of different symptoms, of long term exposure to poisons I have been subject to from Monroe terror cell, who flaunt the “A-1 Exterminators Pest Control” van that is usually parked in their driveway on weekends and in the evenings. That van is the source of the original poison symptoms. The attack with a syringe killed the other symptoms, and these symptoms I have been showing, replaced the other symptoms, which mostly was overwhelming desire to scratch the itchy places on my right leg. Those symptoms are gone, and these other, super painful conditions that prevent me from walking very far at all, or even standing, took over.

That sore above my heal there started out as a tiny red dot.

All of these big sores all started out as tiny red dots.

Over time, they began to grow deeper, wider, more painful, and are finally healing slowly. That redness, I suspect, is the poison that was injected is still there saturated into the leg tissue.

My main complaint over all others is that my toes hurt so bad, so does the bottom of my foot, is all extreme pain. The toes and bottom of my foot are numb, but painful, and ice cold. Even when my foot is by the heater, and feels warm to touch it with my hand, the icy feeling within remains persistent.

There is a small red spot there on the left side of my shin, above the letter l. That small sore started yesterday. I suspect that one will increase in size and depth as the others did. What is different about that one, is that spot did not start as a puncture as all of the others did. We’ll see what happens to that one as the days progress.

I want to emphasis that there was no visible healing happening until I discontinued using Equate brand Antibiotic and Pain Reliever Ointment, the Walmart generic version of neo-sporin. It’s notable that when I went to the Walmart to get some neo-sporin ointment, there was none available on the shelf, but there was ample supplies of the Equate generic brand.

Often, at the Walmart, they remove from the shelves the things I need. There was a time when there was no Hydrogen Peroxide available, but there was plenty of rubbing alcohol on the shelf. The Walmart removes the products intentionally, not just the pharmacy items, but the food items and electronics are purged from the shelf. There is a camera on display at Walmart, a Canon brand, it’s been on display for about five years, every once in a while I go see if I can buy the camera, they only have about six or eight to choose from these days, and I want the one that does not have Blu-tooth built in, but, for five years, that camera is never there, and they won‘t sell me the display model. Instead, the salesperson directs me to a similar Canon Camera, one that has Blu-tooth built in, and there are plenty of those available.

Blu-tooth is bad news. You should avoid Blu-tooth products as if your life depends on it.

There are no US national security, no one is watching the baby, and the baby is on fire.

I  used to have family that was a doctor.

now, my family is all dead, or are held in captivity, so are all of the friends I had. Everyone was killed by the terror army or taken captive as slaves.

Please send medical services to Josephine county Oregon.

=============================================

8:49 pm:

Observation: As I have been posting the effects of the poison attack, the different kinds of symptoms I am having, I am seeing that there are news stories presented on Twitter that are mimicking the symptoms I am telling about. What I am seeing, is that when I say I have numbness and pain, that somehow entices the SAG terror Twitter news media to claim something like:

“COVID Long Haulers are experiencing long lasting symptoms far beyond having been cured of the debilitating disease with complaints that range from numbness of the extremities, to feelings of coldness, and persistent limb pain”

I have seen that happen a number of times within an hour or two of my explanation of poison attack symptoms over the past ten days of so.

What we are witnessing is a “make it up as you go” COVID world in the media. There is no virus, so, since there is no real disease, the ailments have to be invented somehow, or, the symptoms need to stay unreported as it was for the first year. During the entire first year, and especially up to about summer time of 2020, the only ailment that was reported was death, and a lot of it. We were barraged with endless fear about this horrible disease that was killing so many people that all of the whole world had to stop turning, all we were told is: “There is not enough ventilators” and “We are having emergency shortages of respirators” and “People are dropping dead by the thousands because of the Corona Virus”.

Absolutely no reports of the symptoms were told by news media, but today, you can find stories about “COVID Long Haulers are having long lasting symptoms far after recovery”.

Before, we were seeing work crews digging long trenches with coffins lined up ready to be buried.

We were shown people on special guernies, completely hermetically sealed inside of plastic bubbles being wheeled onto airplanes by so called medical professionals all dressed in full blown HASMAT Chemical Warfare Protective Gear to transport them to a hospital.

now, we are seeing a situation where there is a “Vaccine”, many different kinds of so called vaccines. They all seem to have a limited shelf life and expire after a short time, so, we are told that passers by on the freeway were provided with the life saving COVID Vaccine because there was a traffic jam and the vaccines were going to expire, so, rather than let them go to waste, people on the freeway were graciously vaccinated with the life saving drug before it went bad.

You have to keep in mind that it’s not lawful for a restaurant to give away food that will expire, or has past expiration date, Fast food restaurants don‘t give the extra food away at the end of the day. Grocery stores can not hand out the produce when it is a little bruised, and won’t sell.

But hey, that vaccine, a controlled substance, is a hand out on a Oregon back country road in a snow blizzard because it might go bad, and expire, so, they go ahead and inoculate strangers in the forest while they wait for the fucking snow plow to clear the road. They film the event, put it on the news as “Heart warming saga” and the asshole terror murderers in the news media professions all become heroes somehow, because the people are too fucking gullible and are being exterminated as part of the six o’clock news.

“Just come on down to the vaccination event we are having at the stadium, we are planning on killing somewhere around 25.000 citizens today, so, don’t miss out on your chance to be murdered today, But don‘t worry, we will be at the stadium all week starting at ten am, so, there is no rush.

“And in other news: We are looking for some emergency volunteers who have chipper/shredders and Yard Maintenance skills that they can use to help clear debris from the Bear Creek Causeway, next to the stadium this week”.

“COVID Long Haulers are reporting symptoms ranging from numbness and pain of the extremities, to poor circulation“ or close to that, is a real story today,

Our governments were hijacked by treasonous murderers, globally, over the past fifty years, and no one has noticed.

Every day we are shown that some Hollywood asshole “was diagnosed with COVID and is going to self isolate for two weeks”, so, later, it’s always a healthy looking person, with a smile, saying “Yeah, it was one of the hardest things I ever done, it was horrible, but my family helped me through it” as the persons are always looking like they gained fifty pounds, a tan, and a new puppy.

Look at Boris Johnson, the son of bitch gained weight while sick with an ailment that is said to have killed millions of people, but Boris got fat, and was back at work after a two week holiday that was cut short because... because he got fat.

Gullible and naive.

It’s been more than a year, and still no one is fighting back, Twitter is still tweeting, and the mass murdering continues, but now they kill with the vaccine, and everyone is falling for the bullshit, partly because “Twitter” is a cute name for a social media website.

Today, the Joe Biden Brigade rolled out the eventual “Open Carry is a Crime” narrative.

If you thought the pressure associated with wearing a Corona Mask was harsh when you don‘t want to wear the fucking mask, wait until you get a load of the Open Carry Pressure Campaign that was rolled out today. The terror bastards do not want any competition, so, what do you think fake politicians wielding real law will do in order to get their way? After fifty years of careful planing and success along the way, the shills are going to wield those laws as if the law itself is a weapon of mass destruction. At this point in the global takeover with fifty years invested in the actual takeover, and many decades more in planning it, they indeed will be feeling “Too Big To Fail” among their inner circles.

“Open Carry is a Crime” campaign began today, the beginning of more momentum in that direction is happening now.

The nitrous gas they use is volatile, a small flame will clear the air so you can breathe and think clearly. Only those who carry and release the gas will be offended when you use a lighter to clear the air.

Think of this: The British are the top leaders of this terror take over, they command SAG, and SAG commands the terror army. With that in mind, and with the knowledge that they are fooling everyone with a fake Biblical sized plague, know that Boris Johnson said this week that “The UK is a scientific superpower”. The virus, if there were one, would be composed of germs, hence the mask mandate excuse, so, scientific superpower of the UK cannot figure out that a small flame will clear the air of germs?

They don’t want you to use a lighter either, so that “Open Carry is a Crime” campaign is going to include anyone seen using a Bic Lighter, there will be “Drop Specialists” to make sure that if a lighter is seen, then a gun will appear, and the frame work will be done to disappear the people who want to protect themselves from exposure to poison gasses, and being killed.

They will eventually eliminate their own terror army.

The plan is to reset the global population to 500,000 select people world wide. Trust me, that is the plan. They are rolling out the next phase now.

=====

10:36 pm:

There was a news story put into circulation this past week that suggests there are some special people somewhere, and those special persons have made it a public statement presented in network news that there are plans to build out what the said was a “noah’s Ark” of sorts, on the moon. The so called Ark is to house the genes of all animal and plant life that exists on Earth. Basically that is the story, you can find it on your own. The thing that gets my attention about that story is why was it considered so important that it should  be shared in the mainstream news media, for something that would be decades out into the future just to get started on it. That kind of thought crosses my mind all the time when I read the news, “Why is this a news story?” and “Who does this news story serve most?” and “What could possibly be the real underlying message to this story that seems to have very little if any socially redeeming quality?” ... I can‘t help but find that so many news stories simply do not need to be told to millions of people, as they don’t offer anything of value that we can use to help make our lives more pleasant, or easier in some way.

I say the Moon Unit Ark story is a “Go” order from “On-High” to begin the final elimination phase of Corona Virus global terror take over. Things have gotten even more weird than they already were, after that story was first presented. I further suggest that the story today about “Children in school can reduce distance to three feet” is another part of that same terror order to begin the next phase of the global reduction of populations.

It’s going to get increasingly more difficult to survive, and won’t return to the way things were say, in 1999. They certainly won’t return to 1969 life quality, which by comparison to today, was real nice, lots of freedom in USA in 1969, and almost no fear of any harm coming to us, in 1969.

By 1989, think about it, did 1989 offer a feeling of safety, well-being, or freedom?

What will be the reality on earth in 2029?

It looks bleak to me.

===============

11:06 pm:

I have been trying to report terrorism for so long I don’t know exactly when I realized that when I made a crime report, the report was more than crime, then reports of corruption I learned of, when did I realize it was not corruption that I was reporting to authorities? I don‘t know. At some point after 2001, when I saw people being thrown into a blender and turned into liquid at the Walmart, that is for sure when the reporting I still do, became reports of organized terrorism. I saw fourth graders pushed off of a cliff at Table Rock in Medford Oregon on a field trip from school in around 1998, but even then, I had not realized the report I made about it should have been as a terror event, not the murder of fourth grade elementary students.

Since the time I first started reporting crime, murder, corruption, mass murder, then terrorism, I have been targeted for take out ever since.

My family was destroyed, my sister killed in hospital, I watched as they put my brother into that giant blender at a time that I had been told he was already dead, and went to his funeral, only to see that he was in the trunk of a car, where his captors had put him as they waited for a time when I would see them put my brother into the chipper/shredder, alive and screaming in horror.

My children are dead or held captive.

My father was murdered and they stole his estate from me.

I was shot in the face, lost all my teeth as a result.

I have had glass dust shards thrown into my eyes many times, it’s very painful, and when the shards come loose after a week, they get lodged again while you try to rub them out of your eyes.

I get attacked in my home at least once a week.

All of the residences around my home are occupied by the same terror cell now, they prey on me daily. I cannot go outdoors for more than few minutes without being attacked.

They bring African Lions, and release the Lions when I try to take a walk, I have fought with and killed many African Lions while armed only with a small folding knife.

The terror neighbors shoot cross-bow arrows at me regularly from Monroe’s while I walk on my own driveway.

I have been shot hundreds of times with the small custom .25 guns they all seem to have.

I was run over by a Chevrolet Silverado in 2012, and suffer from a spinal cord injury, and, I was a disabled man at the time, since 1994 or so for spinal conditions.

That, and more, I have endured.

now, I am suffering from an attack with poison injection, and am unable to walk very far, cannot reach my own mailbox at this time. Healing is slow to non-existent.

I keep saying what I know, I keep begging for help.

I try to help others, so that they will help me.

no one will help.

Only assassins come in return for my cries for help.

Please study this account, this account is the reason so many attempts to kill me are happening, but it’s not the first account of terror explanations, the bastards have deleted others. This one is the current one, in it, are secrets of terrorism that many of the terror soldiers themselves are not aware of, there are leadership secrets in this account.

Please study it and learn, then devise a plan to conquer the terror take over of USA, and by extension, preserve freedom all over the world.

There is enough information in this account to stop 90% of all the terrorism on earth, forever, if the information were to be used to counter the terrorism.

[westboast]

Homecoming

Chicago, Illinois

This city is not the epicenter of the virus. The epicenter is, according to the news, the Midwest at large, particularly Wisconsin, though boundaries between states are imaginary and movement is freely allowed across state lines. The virus is everywhere. The American “strategy” is no strategy. It is liberty to decide whether you want to catch the virus or not. Some people wear masks diligently, wash their hands, etc. Some do not. Restaurants are open not because it is safe for them to be open, but because their employees are desperate. The right has decided that masks are effeminate, gay. 

We are apparently in the “third wave” of the virus. Cases are up thirty percent from what they were fourteen days ago. And yet businesses remain open. The Biden campaign is slamming Trump for his mishandling of the virus, but at this point it is hard to imagine what can be done to make things better. The opportunity for slowing it down came and went in January. Now we are all coming to terms with the aftermath. That is, the present.

The streets are empty and yet not. Grocery stores are abandoned and yet not. Bars are closed and yet not. There is doublethink everywhere, contradiction everywhere. There is no coherence. There is no plan. There is no voice of authority. There is no trust, no sense of direction. There is a black hole and at the center is the virus, determining everything. The escape is referenced as “the vaccine” or “the cure.” When it comes everything will change, maybe. 

“The Bubble” is how Americans think they control the virus. Everyone inhabits a “bubble,” and who is in it determines what we can do, who we can see, where we can go. We can hang out with people if they are in our “bubble” and known to be Covid-negative. But the nature of the virus, a highly contagious airborne respiratory infection, makes “the bubble” illusory. The disease is so out of control that we must monitor our own behavior, because the government is too hobbled and incompetent to do it for us. But even this conception of control is delusional.

Politics everywhere. Biden flags everywhere. Circuitous, self-affirming conversations everywhere. “We have to vote.” “Things will get better with Biden.” “If you don’t vote, you don’t have the right to criticize.” The same pattern that has always been followed is now being followed again. “The left,” with Bernie on one side and Warren somewhere closer to the middle, has been neutralized. Now the election has been reduced to a simple binary, Trump vs. Biden. “He’s not perfect but he’s the best we’ve got.” “Are you saying we shouldn’t vote for Biden?” Think piece: the lesser of two evils. Meme: salvation from evil. Overlooked: Senator Joseph R. Biden, of Delaware, was a chief architect of the 1994 crime bill, the primary catalyst of the mass incarceration of Black men following its passage. Senator Joseph R. Biden, of Delaware, voted in favor of the ruinous Iraq War. The protests which swept America in 2020 are largely attributable to the 1994 bill. And yet its author has been offered to us as the country’s salvation. Coronavirus infects over seven million and kills over two hundred thousand Americans, and yet single-payer healthcare is still off the table. 

“I am the Democratic Party right now,” said Biden in his debate with President Trump.

My friend in Korea swiveled toward me in her office chair and said: “We weren’t in America for the lockdown, so we didn’t experience the collective trauma. We missed something that is going to be a part of American identity.”

Others: “Why did you leave Korea? It’s safe there.” But it isn’t my home. Living abroad creates a feeling of perpetual anxiety. This does not make sense to me; I do not belong here. 

Chinatown, Chicago, 11 PM. Dim sum restaurant, mirrored walls, sets of fine china, plexiglass, hand sanitizer. One circular table near ours, four people, early thirties, an Asian couple and a white couple, predictable racism. “I don’t like [redacted], it’s not like a hamburger.” “It looks [redacted], like a [redacted].” Camera, close-up, pivots to the other side of the table. “It’s pork and vegetables with a gravy over it.” “Gravy? What kind of gravy?” “Gravy!” Bystander training literature indicates that one should signal their presence but not escalate. Minutes later the restaurant has been overwhelmed by police, ostensibly here to enforce social distancing. The waiters spread the patrons as far apart as possible. Bathroom: three police officers. Two at urinals, one behind them. “Don’t worry, the toilets don’t [redacted].” “Can you stop looking at my ass?” “Never.”

Everything is so sickeningly predictable. I can guess what will be said to me during most conversations. Most people communicate in political and cultural sound bites. Not everyone, of course.

Benito Skinner, crying: “Sorry, y’all, I was just readin’ my own poetry.”

Me, reading Donatella’s romance novel: “Vanity was the sin for which Alek condemned Kenji, but in the bubbling, mirrored pool, he looked as much upon himself, all of those reflections.”

K, in Chicago, texted me the day after we met. He presents as confident but is actually insecure: “How did I look in person?” he said.

Me: “You looked great, very classic and handsome.”

K: “You looked good too.”

I’ll probably never see him again.

Donatella: “I’m beautiful, he thought. He wanted to touch Kenji. He wanted to be touched by Kenji. He wanted to be wanted by Kenji. He had never met Kenji.”

A bouquet of silk hydrangeas, covered in dust.

A concrete staircase in Seoul at 4 AM.

A folding metal chair surrounded by orange tape.

Donatella: “There were missions before this one and there would be missions after it. There were loves before this one and there would be loves after it.”

Korean Air flight KE037 lifts off.

The water bearer Aquarius and her pitchers.

Libra and her scales. Call her.

Man: “I call it an accident, but it was a suicide attempt.”

Humboldt Park: a gust of wind, a thousand dried leaves thrown into the air.

Woman: “I was pretty blindsided.”

Bank billboard: “At Fifth Third, racial discrimination is not tolerated in any form.”

Oversharing, honesty, vulnerability. At some point we sedated ourselves with images. “It looks like you were having so much fun.” Productivity: the internalized logic of neoliberalism— “a productive day,” “I’ve been so unproductive.” Production, branding, grinding, hustling, pedal on the floor, speeding into oblivion. Desperation, alienation, lies.

Issa: “I don’t cancel [redacted] left and right like you.”

Alternatively: “I want to be a ghost.” I want to be invisible. Secrets, the last real currency.

A stranger on the street: “A Black man has approached you, but don’t be alarmed. I want to tell you a joke. What do a dead cop and a live Klansman have in common? They’re both pigs in a blanket.”

New acquaintance: “The committee is just an extension of the marketing department.”

Foot Locker advertisement: “There is no us without you.”

North Korean patriotic song: “Without You, There Is No Us.” [See: Kim, Suki, Without You, There Is No Us, Broadway Books, 2015].

I check the Korea coronavirus stats against the United States stats every day. On October 15, the New York Times reported 59,751 new cases of Covid-19 within the United States. Meanwhile, 110 new cases were reported in Korea. When I was in Seoul these numbers infuriated me. Now I am submerged in the sensory deprivation tank of my own country. The line between hope and inevitability has blurred. I am still not afraid of this virus. I am still terrified of this virus. I am attempting to be less afraid of solitude. The vaccine will come one day. I am with C, my best friend, who understands me.

Issa: “I’m an American.”

R called me from California and said: “I just want to be American.”

Billboard on Armitage Avenue: “VOTE.”

C looked out the car window and said: “The system is working exactly how it is meant to work.”

Seoul, spring: I am sitting in a sterile, sealed room. Before me is a pair of large plastic gloves attached to a plexiglass wall. A doctor enters on the other side of the pane and slides his arms into the gloves. He is giving me instructions that I do not understand. He gestures for me to come closer. I take the swab out of the plastic and put it into his hand. I lean my head back. He shoves the swab down my throat and I gag. He takes it out and in a swift motion shoves it up my nose. I gasp and grab the edge of the seat. My eyes expand and begin to water. It feels like getting fucked, but it’s inside my head. I exit the room and drink Coca-Cola. I wait. “What did it feel like?” my coworker asks. But he wouldn’t know that feeling.

K: “Maybe Biden will win.”

C: “I’m so glad you’re here.”

There are heaps of fruit at the Puerto Rican grocery store near my new apartment. I gather peaches, come home, and bake them into a pie for my roommates. This, at least, is straightforward. Now, at least, there are no conditions. Cut, measure, bake, eat, sleep.

“Two things can be true at once,” I keep telling C.

I feel so much better.

I hadn’t seen H since January. I needed to see him before I left Korea. I ran to him on Sunday, the day before my flight. We spent the whole day together on his campus, under the trees. I held him and cried. “I can feel how much you love me,” he said. My sweatshirt is covered in dust from the door I was leaned against when he kissed me. I still haven’t washed it. I’ll probably never see him again.

Seattle, Japan, Korea, Chicago.

Peach, momo, bogsunga, durazno.

Resist. Accept. Go out. Stay home. Comply. Thrive. Die.