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Mark’s Covid Diary… August 6, 2020

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A few days ago, while drifting aimlessly around town with my son, he asked why it was that we were happening across the bodies of so many small, headless creatures. It seemed like something I should know the answer to, but I didn’t. I think we finally settled on the idea that the top halves of animals must taste better, but maybe it’s because the bottom half is where the guts and anuses are. Whatever the reason, now that we’ve started talking about it, we can’t stop finding headless animals. Every day, it seems, we find another mouse, frog or rabbit without its upper half. And, now, it’s become our mission to see if, before the ground is covered by snow, we can find the top half of an animal. [This is what four months of isolation has brought us to – absurdly long walks, competing against one another to be first to find a chipmunk head.]

Speaking of wildlife, has anyone else noticed that there are considerably more rabbits this year in Ypsilanti? I’m right about that, aren’t I? Maybe, I’m thinking, it’s because more people are growing produce in their yards due to the pandemic. Could that be possible?

As for our walks, Arlo and I are still doing about five miles every evening, with him on his bike, and me trudging alongside on foot. And I’ve already started worrying about what we’ll do when winter comes, and we can longer just meander around town for hours on end, chatting about monsters and American history. [This week, there’s been a lot of talk about designing hybrid creatures à la Dr. Moreau. One of the more memorable ones was a polar bear with a human brain, a hide of snake skin, and the tongue of a goose.]

I voted the other day, in person, like one of our ancestors might have. I hadn’t planned on it, but my ballot never came in the mail. It felt weird. Almost no one was there. And I didn’t get the thrill I usually get when heading into a polling place. I just found myself feeling really worried for the health of all the older volunteers. They were behind sheets of plastic, but it didn’t feel right.

But, then again, nothing feels right anymore, does it?

The more strange things get, the more my mind has turned to owning a kayak. It’s kind of meditative. I just kind of zone out a few times a day, and imagine what my life would be like if I owned one. Or at least that’s how it started. The dream, at first, was just to own a kayak. Now, though, I’m allowing myself to imagine having a house on the river, with a dock that I can tie my kayak up to… It’s probably an OCD thing, but, when I would just imagine having a kayak, the good feelings would be short-lived, as it would eventually occur to me that I’d have to find a way to get my kayak from my house to the river and back. And that’s when I started imagining just having a house on the river, so as to make the dream of kayak less problematic. Maybe it’s a COVID-19 thing, but I’m really liking the idea of spending my days in the middle of the river, away from everyone else, and the headless animals, paddling around in search of herons.

One of these days, I’m going to post the entire list of things that I like on this site. Here, for those of you who can’t wait, are just a few to get you started; composing, ferns, dawn redwoods, digging up old bottles, herons, kayaks, hiking boots, pre-war jazz, pre-code movies, country ham, El Caminos, tabby concrete, self-taught art, frogs, Columbo, otters, Vonnegut, panna cotta…

OK, I’m out of time. Good night, my friends. I hope you’re all well.

One last thing… As weak and dementia-rattled as Joe Biden might be, he still has it within him to destroy God. And that’s why we have no choice but to rally behind him. While it’s certainly true that our America-hating scientists are now developing vaccines using alien DNA to keep people from becoming religious, the work isn’t advancing as quickly as we’d hoped. And we need someone like Joe Biden in the White House to destroy God, should a final face-to-face battle become necessary. [It would be the biggest pay-per-view event ever.]


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