I have not felt well today at all. This has led me to some pretty dark places. They are not comforting. Still, I try to maintain a sense of humor about it all--with others. I will maintain a sense of humor 'til the end, I hope. I talked to my mother about matters that are not usually mentioned. I have to get affairs in order. I told her to contact Ili if anything happens. I do not know where Ili lives, and she has blocked me from her phone, but I will give my mother her work information. Ili, I've never mentioned, is an attorney and can help my mother immensely. I asked her to take care of Ili. She said she would.
And so I've turned my attention to "Boots of Spanish Leather" once again, and the final stanza has confused me. Why would he ask for "Spanish Boots of Spanish Leather"? I Googled it. I got a recording of Dylan singing the song at Carnegie Hall. He opens the song by saying when you can't get what you want sometimes you take what you can get.
Well, that's Dylan.
I never asked for boots or leather.
Now this will all seem foolish when I am here in the morning and the morning after that, but I've had lots of lonesome time to think about that day when I ain't. There are matters that must be thought of, and I am thinking of them now. I told my mother I would write down all my accounts and all my passwords tonight. My head is bad, and I don't feel right.
I've had my retirement account set up for a month. I have lost 8% of my holdings. You should probably buy into the market because I just pulled out. I am always wrong. I could have bought a new car with what I lost in the last few days. If I am around, I will probably have to find some work. Not really "have to," but will feel compelled to. I'm not much of a gambler. I'd rather spend money than lose it. I'm pretty good at spending it. Not so good at making it, it seems.
I heard on t.v. that spring begins tomorrow, but they were wrong. I was pinning much on that. But Thursday, perhaps, we can have some new beginning. Love and romance. The Carnal Equinox.
Perhaps an attractive nurse.
I read a book once about a solo sailor who got trapped in the ice of the Northern Sea and had to weather out the winter alone. When the ice broke and he was able to sail back to civilization, he found that he had become incredibly slow in his motions and thoughts. I fear that is happening to me already.
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Maybe I should stop posting here. I am revealing too much. This is becoming a journal of madness. I woke today not feeling well. I read about the virus. My heart began racing, my blood pressure elevated. Anxiety takes hold of me. I am not this sort of person. That is what I thought. But sitting at home alone for coming upon a week now, I am breaking down with fear and anticipation. I receive jocular texts from the world outside. People do not seem worried. Those are people who are not ill. One of my old colleagues is. Her husband asked me not to send her any more texts. She is starting to fall apart as well. But she has him there with her. I am here alone. I do not feel well. I do not feel like moving.
I will try to stay away from the personal and speak only of existentials outside me. The day is gray. The yardmen should come today. I have a broken sprinkler head. I should probably take a walk.