Feb. 24: The Trump administration asks Congress for $1.25 billion for coronavirus response
After weeks of looking, I’ve finally relocated to a cozy new spot right above Franklin Street in Greenpoint. My friend Otu warned me that Brooklyn is overrun by young twenty-somethings that cover themselves with ripped fabrics and engage in daily mithridatism practices by chugging green liquids from see-through vials. I don’t pay him much attention. Otu’s a newbie–I’ve got particulate matter that’s been around since Theodore Roosevelt was in office. The oldest he’s got, at best, is from the Nixon administration. And we all know how well that ended.
Besides, I like it here. It doesn’t hurt that my new neighbor is a total looker. I’ve decided to call her Jenny. Jenny spends at least an hour a day perched in her fire escape window, absentmindedly sneaking in handfuls of chocolate chips between American Spirit Blues. I can tell by the smell of ‘em–they’re my favorite. I haven’t been lucky enough to find a neighbor with a nicotine fix since I lived over in Hell’s Kitchen above Chuck, who smoked Marlboro Ultra Lights. Which, everyone knows, are for total wusses.
Mar. 6: Five days before President Trump blocks most visitors from continental Europe
Something feels a little off. Jenny’s on the phone way more often now. I used to admire her lips, slightly parted as she’d lazily roll a cigarette between her red-lacquered fingertips. Now, her mouth is pursed as she paces outside, talking agitatedly into her cellphone. Maybe she just went through a break-up. He probably didn’t deserve her, anyway. I want to tell her that she should go back inside, that it’s winter in New York and you’re wearing nothing but flannel pants and a see-through tank top–which I appreciate–and you could catch a cold, you ninny.
On the bright side, with all of the energy she’s expending, I can almost feel a warm draft up here, 2,000 feet in the air.
Mar. 13: President Trump declares a national emergency
The streets aren’t nearly as busy as they used to be. I heard all this hype about Brooklyn being a cool, trendy neighborhood and now it’s been seventeen minutes since I’ve even seen a yellow cab. Or at the very least seen someone almost get hit by one…I should have known. An old speck like me, I probably belong somewhere more dependable, like the Upper East Side. I’ve heard their crime rates are incredibly low.
Jenny must be taking the breakup pretty hard. She hasn’t gone to work since last week. Maybe her job is giving her paid emotional leave or something. I do miss seeing her in that blue uniform. It hugged her just right.
I can’t tell whether I should worry about her. I haven’t seen her friends, two of which I’ve affectionately dubbed blondie and ol’ red, in days. Maybe she’s just going through a phase…hell, I’ve had friends that’ve gone through all three states in a matter of hours.
Mar. 15: The C.D.C. recommends no gatherings of 50 or more people in the U.S.
The streets are empty. When I do spot the less-than-occasional passerby, they’re usually walking quickly with colorful cloth over the bottom half of their faces. Otu did say this was a hipster neighborhood, I guess. Maybe it’s a new trend…
I’ve barely seen Jenny in two days. She rarely leaves the apartment, and spends more and more time in her bedroom, out of view. She’s also cut down to only one cigarette per day…I’ll admit, the girl’s got willpower. But god, do I resent her for cutting off my supply, too.
Maybe it’s for the better. I haven’t been able to breathe this well since, well, I don’t know when. Maybe it is true what Otu says about nicotine after all…But he and N. say they’ve been breathing better too, and they purposefully sought out neighbors that only take their drugs in bottle form.
Damned straight-edge assholes.
Mar. 26: The US leads the world in confirmed coronavirus cases
It’s like a ghost town here. I could count on two hands the number of cars I’ve seen since yesterday…that is, if I had hands. I also haven’t had a smoke in over a week. Since when did the people of New York suddenly decide to care about their respiratory health? I’ve been stewing in smoke, soot, and only god knows what for decades. Now, I can’t even feel the breath rattling in my imaginary lungs…
Birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and I’m starting to see patches of green on nearby trees…I wish that Jenny would come out and enjoy this weather. The girl could use it. Hell, everyone could…
Speaking of which, where the fuck is everyone?
Mar. 28: The C.D.C. issues a travel advisory for the New York region
Something terrible is happening here.
You know when you wake up from a bad dream only to realize that reality is actually way, way worse? Well, I’ve woken up. And boy, is reality a doozy.
There are EMTs driving ambulances in hazmat suits. Grandmothers being wheeled out of buildings, their mouths giving form to prayers in languages that I can barely understand. Soccer dads emerging from grocery stores with carts stacked high with frozen vegetables and bottles of bleach. And what the fuck is the deal with all the toilet paper?
Mar. 30: More states issue stay-at-home directives
What’s really got me is the quiet. God, the quiet. It’s like I’m living in a silent film, but at least you know that’ll end after less than two hours. I’ve started hallucinating, seeing things that aren’t there. I’m imagining divorcées in fur coats with dogs that are way too small and suits with superiority complexes that are way too big and little kids, the dreamers that walk with their faces turned towards the sky ‘cause they’re bodies might be on a crowded city street but you just know that their minds, their minds are far, far away from here.
But this can’t be the new normal. Can it?
Apr. 4: Today
This is all just some big weird fluke.
Everything should be okay. Everything has to be okay. Everything will be okay.
They’ll all be okay, right?