#10 Quicksand

Hey. It's me, marn. Things are d/evolving quickly here. 

I wrote a draft of this letter before heading out for groceries. I wrote about the temporary relief in the eye of the storm now that the local schools and offices are finally closed. I wrote about relaxing because I can finally rest from dodgeball style distancing. 

An hour later, I found the bike path I've been using to avoid public transport is closed without warning. More public spaces are closed as I am about to use them. The thing worse than quicksand is anticipating it every step. I'd prefer being told to stay in a well for a month. 


I did not make a new beakie. I did not complete an old beakie, I sat at the desk everyday and looked at them until my growling stomach reminds me of breakfast. I did, however, added legs to my companion otter, who I was sure didn't want them, until now. May be he wants to run outside and catch the sun because he's afraid he won't be allowed to, tomorrow. 

Some of the new borns this year will be ready for travelling while we can’t, stepping up as stable companions in a shifting world, soon enough. I’ll keep you posted.

Not read

Usually, I finish a book or two in a week. This week, I found out nausea doesn't only happen when reading on moving ground, but also in constantly shifting reality. 

So. I did not finish The Age of Light, because the emphasis is on romance between Lee Miller and Man Ray rather than their creative endeavours. 

I did not finish Weather by Jenny Offil, because the book reads like a verbalised panic attack and mine alone is too much to bear.

I did not finish Lincoln in the Bardos, because the multiple commentaries seems to add to the thousand and one commentaries of everyone everywhere about whether we’ll have to wear mask for the rest of our lives every time I open a browser. 

I did not finish Lost and Wanted, because juxtaposing quantum physics with paranormal cannot save dull characters from being themselves. Ernie and Bert are interesting even when they talk about mundane domestic things.

Rearranging furniture

Last week I rearranged furniture at home to create a buffer zone at the entrance. This week, the effort extended to the interior of me. My mind draws maps for a new future, my heart beats emotions into me, while I'm motioning through the obstacle course to acquire basic necessities for a semblance of the old normal. 

The occassion

Over the years my hubs have accumulated some number of fancy candles. He says they are for celebrations, while I just don't like adding heat to the year-round tropical weather. 

The occasion didn't arrive in the last ten years until last night. We lit them one after another, celebrating a simple dinner of leftover beans and rice on our small balcony surrounded by house plants and mosquitoes (possibly of the dengue variety). 

We watched the flames. We celebrated. Another footpath may be closed when this letter reaches you. We have no where to go, and no where we'd rather go than with each other.


I clocked more TV time this week than since the start of this year. 

Spare on dialogue and high on suspense, plus an ever expanding cast, the sci-fi series Dark is the only show that's able to hijack my otherwise anxious mind. 

The human body imagined as a working town in Cells at work! is educational as it is entertaining by giving invisible enemies (think viruses) form. Who wouldn't wanna watch bacteria in grape shaped formation attacking leisure seekers at the nasal cavity hot spring?


In If Everybody had a Wadley, larger than life Marion Barbara 'Joe' Carstairs says of her doll Lord Tod Wadley, "we're like one... he's me and I'm him. It's a marvellous thing. If everybody has a Wadley there'd be less sadness in the world." I agree.

According to this article, people with anxiety and depression symptoms improved during this period. Could the virus be shackling our bodies while freeing our minds?

I say to you, please take care. And I mean it. marn