Premier Blaine Higgs & Education minister Dominic Hardy addressed the public today after wiping down microphones and adjusting face masks which required a notable amount of face touching. Both had a beer in hand, citing the official time to be: “5 o’clock somewhere.” Follow-up questions revealed that neither politician knew exactly what day it was.
Higgs, who recently went on record announcing NBs relatively low new cases of covid-19 earlier this week, announced that, yes, even the virus found NB to be not much more than a boring, drive-through province. The virus moved quickly through to Nova Scotia, though not before hitting a moose between Moncton & Sackville, and totally ruining the Chevy Cruze it rented in Quebec.
Dominic Cardy then took the stand saying that yes, he did, in fact, receive all my letters and calls asking if I could please homeschool my kids, and plans were being developed to assist me in the dream of becoming a substitute teacher. Cardy finished the address stating simply: “Remember guys, everybody passes because: virus.”
Self-Isolation – Day 25: What kind of jackhole virus kills John Prine?
When did getting old happen?
Seeing rain and worrying about water.
Seeing sun and worrying about burns.
Seeing soda and worrying about teeth.
When did the north pole become scary?
when did teenagers become scary?
When did your back become terrible?
(Your knees, your wrists, your ankles)
Skateboarding really was a bad idea.
When did you forget how to write?
When did silence replace laughter?
When did sweatpants become salvation?
When did we all become one icy driveway away from ruin?
When did skateboarding become a bad idea?
What happened to 2 am?
Did Irving just buy it, and now owns it?
It used to belong to the happy, tired faces of friends,
to music, to the dreamers.
Now all we have is a shitty dumb virus
and masks and clorox and death.
Self-Isolation – Day 24: But: there is no snow in my driveway.
“Do you think that wall just moved?”
“.. Do I.. think the wall moved?”
“Yes, that wall right there.”
“I do not.. think that wall moved.”
“I think that wall moved.”
“Jesus Christ, Jordan, go outside or something.”
Self-Isolation – Day 22 – In which I go outside.
She used to turn the blinker on five minutes out,
and coast to the intersection
“I like to slowly become more relevant,
like corduroy, or a stopped clock.”
“Do you want to know something else about me?” She asked
and I almost laughed because,
despite the fact that she was a terrible driver,
I wanted to know everything about her.
And so we talked like that for the rest of the day.
A real question-and-answer, forget-the-time talk.
An interested, forgot-to-eat-lunch conversation
that spanned hours like decades, and ended in a diner.
When it started getting dark we found light
When it started getting light we found coffee.
“Do you know why I drink black coffee?” She’d said
“Because you want it to match your soul?” I replied.
She used to build tiny houses out of sugar packets
and I imagined living in a shelter like that,
Each rain day slowly eating away at the walls and floors
and real life slowly creeping in through the sweet ruin.
Self-Isolation – Day 14: Netflix invented the virus to make people watch Tiger King.
There are places in this house I didn’t know existed:
I am finding new ways to be lonely in places I own, but have never been.
Today I have seen 7 people I love but haven’t hugged any of them.
I am rich on the money I haven’t spent in restaurants.
My neighbors are wearing out the road by walking on it. And I want to say hello, but also: This isn’t a time to be fit and feel good. And then I think that maybe it is. And then I have another donut and what the fuck
Self-Isolation – Day 13: Dirty looks at the grocery store.
She’s chewing corn pops and I’m watching. In what seems like slow motion, her mouth moves and works as she grinds every last yellow ball into oblivion. I stare at her. At her mouth. Listen for the screams. I hear the enriched corn sugar exploding like shotgun blasts. These are the end times. These are the days we will count our dead not by the hundreds, but by the thousands.
She shovels another scoop in and I slam my fist on the table, making spoons and glasses rattle.
“MONSTER!” I yell.
The chewing stops as she looks at me. The children in the adjoining room stop playing and stare, Cartoons play on the TV and the only sound that can be heard is Peppa pig, fat shaming her porky father.
“Jesus Jordan, what the hell is wrong with you?”
I snap out of my daze and mumble an apology that earns a well-deserved squint. The kids go back to oblivion. I take a bite of my bagel and it screams bloody murder in my face.
Self-isolation – Day 12: Ben Affleck movies about basketball.
There is a piano on fire across the street.
We watch the flames grow and spread toward us.
Across the phone wires, and the power lines,
to the roof, walls and edges of our home.
The house burns around us,
the smoke is thick and runs across our skin like a kitten tongues
and stabs our lungs like knitting needles.
“Is your cup full darling?”
“isn’t it though?”
“What agony, this thing. This love.”
“But full cups though.”
Our couch burns and our clothes and hair.
Our eyeballs explode and sizzle and drool down our faces
and fill the corners of our mouths.
We are alone, but together
drunk on the prospect of living forever
but setting fires to make sure we dont.