March 22, 2020

Dear Virus,

I appreciate your monologue, and I am already feeling much better. The fever I
had developed in your anticipation is almost gone, and I am much more relaxed.

Yet I can still sense a nagging feeling inside of me. Secretly, I suspect that 
part of why I am feeling so much better today is because I am part of the 
frequent-flying classes who find it so easy to adapt to you, as they convert 
their ruined social and professional lives into an even more ruinous online 
existence. Now all our bodies are in front of screens 24/7, you render us 
_busy_, as we are staying in touch. It was us who had awarded ourselves with 
the name of the disaster: "Anthropocene" - not "humanity", whatever you think 
that may be. I'm not denying that you are speaking to me from memory and with 
strategy, but as you are calling the shots, I wish you were also equipped with 
a dictionary, and with vision. It would affect your politics. Revolution makes 
for beautiful weather - but do you think the inverse will hold true? Because 
there is one more thing that will become much clearer in the sunlight of the 
coming weeks: The ones I love most, including myself, are only _spreading_ you, 
like chemtrails or pesticides or exhaust fumes. The gates of death will open on 
the receiving end, as our maids will carry you home. And as far I can tell, 
they have always been aware that they were living out of boxes, with little 
decoration to even wish to blow up. They have always hated their husbands, 
their kids would puke every night, and thanks to you, they're working overtime.

Can you still mutate a little, dear virus? You still sound so fucking human.