Breakthrough

It was quite uncanny, the mailman had pulled up in his truck at the curbside
I walked out, for want of a change, to pick up the day's mail
The neighbor must have had the same idea. We walked in parallel
There were head nods but, that morning, we skipped the usual pleasantries
For we were both wearing N-95 masks, the ones you use in extremis
The ones that, by design, require some effort to take off
It didn't need to be said, the same visitor had breached our walls
A quick glance at each other, solidarity and a touch of recognition
Stoic and grim-faced, we turned and walked back in our houses

...

They call it a breakthrough, a breach of your body's fortified defenses
For the weapons on hand were finely targeted at the ancestral strain
And new variants, equipped with modified spikes, could maneuver around
What with waning effectiveness, the natural decay of protection would obtain
It was said that the severity and intensity of the attack would be reduced
Because of the multiple layers that, once activated, would come into play
Generalists, those memory cells that would serve to root out the scourge
Even when the antibody specialists, those shock troops were overwhelmed
Vaccines were engineered in record time, in many ways it was a miracle
To guard against severe disease and death, for that we must be thankful
Still, so many bought the promise of a panacea in a fit of wishful thinking
That they ignored all other measures leaving us prone to breakthrough infections

...

Did I give it to you? Will I die?
Heartbreaking that his first thought was whether he'd infected you
No need for guilt, young man, you'll pull through
It's nobody's fault but mine, my son
Went against my better judgment, it was a lapse
We tried to keep you safe but, at length, we missed
The gods would dispose of human vanity
We are challenged and the future may be perilous
But we trust also that the gods have mercy
So I'm going to snuggle up and give you a hug
But, first things first, let's find us some masks

Breakthrough, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version)

• There it is by James Brown
• Here it is! by Alan Toussaint
• There it is by Shalamar
• Overcome by Tricky
• Nobody's fault but mine by Nina Simone
• There it is by Barry White
• Breakthrough by JazzyFatNastees
• There it is by Tyrone Davis

After Omicron BA.2.75 (Centaurus)

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time

File under: coronavirus, pandemic, disease, culture, observation, health, perception, life, covidious, poetry, toli

Writing log. June 21, 2022

Three Seconds

It was the microwave situation when it came down to it
It was her way with the microwave that really got to him
She simply couldn't bring herself to press the stop button
Preferring instead, as the timer counted down, to pull the door open

She had the puzzling but unerring habit
Of interrupting the microwave's operation
With just a few seconds to spare on the digital timer
0:02 or, more typically, 0:03 seconds, unblinking
Stark numbers would stare at you from the control panel

He grew increasingly infuriated at the countdown idiosyncrasy
Destabilized, as he was, by the tension of those last remaining seconds
Of late, he noticed that she had even taken to leaving the display stuck at 0:01
Virtuosity in her timing that upped the ante of dismay

Why leave just a few seconds on the clock? It made no sense
Did she really need to heat things up for 57 seconds?
Why not wait for the satisfaction of the final beeps?
Defrost for 28 instead of 30 seconds? What was her issue?
Was it an aversion to hearing the beeping microwave?
An aural infirmity or a baroque superstition?

She never said anything about it, ignorance was bliss
It's the small things that get to you, that you start to notice
The way someone squeezes the toothpaste tube, all those things
But the microwave situation was, quite simply, confounding
The tension of those last few seconds that left you hanging

Still, love is blindness, he decided to take it as an omen
A saving grace, this eccentricity of never pressing the stop button
He made his peace with the strange legacy of those three seconds
Comforted that it would always be around midnight in their kitchen

Three Seconds, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version)

• Three Seconds by Oliver Nelson
• Hanging on a String by Loose Ends
• Never Stop by Brand New Heavies
• Digital Display by Ready for the World
• The Control Panel by Richard Yost
• Microwave Blues by Ralph Lalama
• Clocks by Coldplay
• A Few Seconds by Loiseau
• Just a Little Bit Longer by Maxi Priest
• 'Round Midnight by Thelonious Monk
• Things That Annoy Me A Bit by Scott Sandwich
  Concluding with a spoken word piece to destabilize things

[Update]

Apparently some even see this deviance as a game these days

File under: life, Small Things, culture, observation, humour, perception, relationships, poetry, toli

Writing log. June 17, 2022

Memory Islands

The ancients observed that reversals were, in many ways, as important
As the victories their communities would accrue in the course of affairs
It would become their practice to find a way to commemorate the former
Even as even the most minor triumphs were what tended to be celebrated

They recognized, however, that it is hard to resist the temptation of the salutary
When the alternative prospect is of encumbering the mind with the unpleasant
After a long consultation with the gods, they devised a solution
The mist of memory became a safe haven

The contours of this terrain was replete with caveats
Overstuffed caves and secret chambers of detailed recall
Next to retreats to escape hatches of situational amnesia
Memory islands were the conflicted legacy of mankind

Too acute a remembrance and one is inhibited
For, if vivid and at the forefront of the mind, a memory can surely blind
Too raw a reminder of past hurt, and decision making would be tentative
They found that sometimes memories were debilitating and that forgetting was best

A fine balance was needed, however, to navigate this fraught life
For, on other occasions, the reverse would be summoned
In many perilous moments, prompt recall can be of the essence
And, even without urgency, precise action can be preferable to a blank slate

The moderns - we should not begrudge them, would now speak of hormones
And sundry glands and secretions that encode our instinctive responses
Yet the ancients would maintain that these textures of ancestral memory
Are merely the rivers that course through nature's memory islands

Memory Islands, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• Do You Remember by Jill Scott
• Forget Me Nots by Patrice Rushen
• It's Easy to Remember by Billie Holiday
• Don't You (Forget about Me) by Simple Minds
• I Remember When by Stan Getz
• Did I Remember by Billie Holiday
• Remember When by Ronny Jordan

See previously: Decision to Forget. Cultural memory is my enduring theme.

File under: decisions, memory, culture, observation, strategy, perception, Buyer's Remorse, Observers are worried, poetry, toli

Writing log. June 9, 2022

Celestial Visitor

Venus would appear in its first guise as a morning star
Paving the way for the sun to rise a few hours later
And casting a faint shadow in its greatest illuminated extent
A waxing crescent state in the predawn hours
The liminal twilight before sunrise

In modern times, adjustments were needed amidst the man-made glare
To favor eyes unaccustomed to discerning such distant objects
How best to perceive its shape during the fleeting apparition
The advice was to first stare at the receding horizon
To habituate the senses to behold the roving vision
For the eye to truly gather a full glimpse
We had to learn anew how to see the wonders of this world

Still, the ancients would take its journey as an omen
In their urge to understand the paths of nature's higher bodies
A reminder, in its elliptical motion, of the proper order of things
Mankind's gaze recorded that Venus would precede the sun

Thus it was their practice to wake at the crack of dawn
To savor the quality of the light of the early morning sun
And they would make sure that those bearing the very young
Would be shielded in the shadows from the later burning sun

And the word was passed down, the stories were retold across the ages
Grandmothers would explain as they called you in, mine would speak in this way:

Spirits are often contemplated in the dark, messengers of the night
And Venus, in its full grandeur, visits humanity before sunrise

Venus, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• Morning Star by Stan Getz
• Venus Rising by Wallace Roney
• Morning Star by Jack DeJohnette's Directions
• Cumbia de Venus by La Sonora Norte
• Morning Star by Sarah Vaughan
• Venus by Lutan Fyah
• Morning Star by Johnny Clarke
• Venus Rising by Barry Osbourn
• Morning Star by The Scientist
• Venus Sunrise by Pranatronic
• Morning Star (Live) by Stan Getz
• Elliptical by Wallace Roney

Bonus beats: Happier than the morning sun by Stevie Wonder

File under: life, myth, culture, observation, perception, astronomy, appreciation, tradition, nature, poetry, toli

Writing log. June 9, 2022

Rub-A-Dub Style

I'll confess that my intentions in your regard are not what you'd call honorable
That the ache that I feel points to a rather earthy origin
Pores, skin, flesh and ultimately sweat are what I envision
In the moment, you can bring the laughter, I'll make sure to bring the heat
We can go Dutch, rub-a-dub style, you do know what that means

The highlights, we'll never forget,
And even a mundane touch will be remarkable
Stay with me, whatever fits the bill,
I'll lay all my cards on the table
These words may be intense but are a mere testament to my ambitions
It's about the great longing, rub-a-dub style, you know what I mean

Nights exchanging whispers and then screams of passion
Surprising ourselves and watching each other's reactions
But, first things first, can I hold your hand?
Let me not get ahead of myself, may I have this dance?
Let's make memories rub-a-dub style, know what I mean?

Rub-A-Dub Style, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note, I favor a direct approach in accordance with the style. 25 odd spins on the rub-a-dub notion starting of course with Johnny Osbourne's One More Rub-A-Dub and the great Dennis Brown's Rub-A-Dub all the time. (spotify version)

File under: love, humour, language, seduction, attention, hubris, flirtation, toasting, culture, observation, perception, male gaze, toli, poetry

Writing log. June 7, 2022