So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 4/2/2020

I don’t feel at all like writing today… or was it yesterday? I can’t keep track anymore. Is this a sign of isolation, stress, loneliness, fear, anxiety, depression, COVID19 or writers block? All I know is I don’t feel like writing.
Everything is so grim… what can I contribute, what can I produce that’s effective for myself and others? How will we all get through this? I felt awful last night.. Didn't know if it was another bout with the plague, or my hyper allergic reaction to spraying Bee’s cabin to get rid of the Amityville Horror fly infestation. Well, I got rid of them, but also ruined my thyroid and liver for life. Not to mention my nervous system….  Let’s face it, i’m a wreck. 

To calm my nerves I drove to Devils Punchbowl… Did you know there was such a place? Yes! not too, too far from my high desert retreat. When I got there the park was closed due to the plague. I figured as much, but I do want to express how remote this place is… 
for it to be closed underlines the severity of the plague. I parked me dad’s hand-me-down 1990, Ford Explore on the side of the road, and munched on some Burritos I made. Chicken, lentil, zucchini, and cheese. They came out really good.. I’ve become the rustic cook. As I’m having me lunch in the middle of nowhere, I see these two urbanites with all their hiking gear, walking completely off trail in search of salvation. If there really is a devil at this punchbowl, he’ll show them.

Ok, I went to the local post office for the first time, not just during this stay, but in my entire life. I didn’t even know there was a postoffice in the area… I find the everyday images of what people are dealing with intense and disturbing. Everyone in homemade masks, some with prints of kittens to look cute, other good ol boy-types living their dream as Ninja kamikazes. Floor markers made from postal tape, handwritten with “ stay six feet apart. Pens with cheerful glittery bunnies, and flowers in  a basket to use, with a handwritten sign, “these items are not sterile. Use at own risk.” The entire postal staff in masks and gloves. A flimsy plastic tarp, 
(with holes) sealing the off from the public they serve, reminding everyone to, “have a nice day.” This is the new norm! 
We're all so fucked. This is not my idea of how I plan to spend my golden years.

What I’m feebly trying to articulate; what will be our legacy? Who will be the hero’s of this plague? There hasn’t been, In my lifetime, an experience that every person in the world in dealing with at once…  the same experience collectively. I think of the karma in that collective thought.  Who will lead? Who will become the leader? Who will step up to the plate and say, “ I’M NOT GOING TO ACCEPT THIS. I WILL FIND A CURE, AND IT WILL BE FREE FOR EVERYONE. Not just the chosen few that is the lie and failure that is capitalism.

So this is how the world will end.

copyright- rick castro 4/2020

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