Day 75 isolation
Dateline: Austin. East facing porch in spring rain. Cold clean pieces of water punctuated by crisp thunder. The world is being washed. made fresh. During lulls in the rain when the sound of rain on tin is is replaced by the last dripping- the last residual of rain. I hear:
Traffic. Traffic is back. Commerce is coming. I hear it this morning. Traffic. It is a low constant. Like a diesel powered waterfall. It ebbs and flows. Occasionally a sound will differentiate. A truck Jake braking (supposed to be illegal) or a heavy load getting up to speed (reverse Jake braking and completely legal and necessary). Or a rock hammer on a back hoe breaking down limestone for a septic tank or a foundation. The clack of metal on metal and low thud of the earth receiving the metal point.
We are moving into the re opening period in Texas . Not post plague of course. The plague is still with us. We are in the I wanna go fast phase of re opening (see Talladega Nights for reference).
So I am yelling (ok not yelling but speaking too loud) to those I know who are old, infirm, health compromised- not so fast skippies. The plague is not over. It is looking for the weakest links right now. searching. vectoring. Hitching a ride on every pool hanging, bar lounging, shop a holic, bowler, bar back, bar band, bar b q slinger, bingo hall bouncer and well- you get the point. So if you have any say in the matter, if you can somehow pull it off- lay low. Stay off the radar. Isolate bigly. Don't party down as people used to say. Or at least with scads of people.
As my high school football coach would say when we were about to get walloped by Clifton or Italy (or lots of others to be honest)-
Shoot low boys! They are riding shetlands!
Of course it made no sense then. And it makes no sense now.
Shoot low boys! They are riding Shetlands!
I love to say that. I laugh every time.
Isolation men and women. foundation paintings. one person to page. in isolation.