Worm Date: 0.0333
I’ve never been so happy to hear an alarm clock in my life. My wife went to work yesterday for the first time since February. I told her anything except “we’re closing the school and immigration will be contacting you shortly” would have to be considered good news.
And it was good news. She quickly emailed me to let me know that they had ten kids so she’d be staying the entire day. They’re back at work. It’s all very fragile and I’m still stuck indoors but it’s very good news for her, good news for me, and, I’m sure, great news for ten sets of parents. I was really pretty happy about the whole thing. It’s odd but it’s easier to be happier for someone else than it is for yourself. Whenever I get good news, I always feel a bit upset by it. But when someone else does? It makes me happy.
It wasn’t the only good news. Yesterday also marked the first day in 47 days where Korea’s new cases were below fifty. It’s a pretty arbitrary milestone but I’ll take good news where I can get it. Of course, fragility is the thing to remember. Japan looks set to declare a state of emergency and Japan is pretty much a stone’s throw from Busan, which puts us between Daegu and another hotspot. And the red alert has been extended another two weeks.
There’s also some worrying signs. Nothing major, yet, but I get the sense that the Big Money is starting to buy its way back into the conversation. CEOs popping their heads up to start talking about “balance” and really saying that business is the important thing. Going along with their bullshit is some nonsense coverage of imaginary cures meant to lull people into a false sense of security. They prey on people’s urge to be done. They should be careful.
Of course, yesterday still remained a bit up and down for me, but, while it was up and down it was one of the first days in a long time where I felt like there was some emotional structure to the day. Some visibility. Less of an amorphous mass of feeling.
But there were down moments. One was brought on by talking with a Canadian. Not their fault. It’s just, I sorta get the feeling that they think I’m still a Canadian. I’m not. And trying to explain the American thing is just so fucking taxing. Like, yes, the country is evil but that’s only part of it. The people who suffer from that evil are often Americans. They’re my friends and family and they’re often good people. Shit like gun violence or how America murders its population with neglect and with straight up murder . . . It’s personal.
It’s just hard to talk about these things with people to whom these things are just things to talk about. You can’t explain it. You don’t see it if you visit, you don’t buy it at the tourist spots, and you can’t understand it from the news or read about it in a book. You need to know the fucking trauma of the place in your bones. You need to know it to hear it. And knowing it, you’re sick of talking about it. Sick with talking about it. Sick.
Honestly, the citizenship test should be this song.
Does this song seem like commentary? Does it seem clever? Intellectual? Yes? Sorry. That’s too fucking theoretical.
Does this song shake your insides, your guts, and your bones? Do you know and recognize this feeling? Have you had a moment change at the speed of gunshots into that disorienting bass-line? Is this threat your daily feeling? Does it linger over even the most cheerful interactions? Have you slept with and woken up with this feeling? Is this feeling why you dance? Is it why you’re a bit fucking on edge? Is it your sharp? Is this threat and suspense your background? Are you dealing with this badly? Yes?
Congrats, you’ve been sufficiently fucked up. You’re a yank now.
NOW RUN, MOTHERFUCKER!
Anyway, I wonder when the birds are going to wake up.