Yesterday, Thursday, a friend and classmate, William Pierce, read from a memoir-like work on our Groove which he published a number of years ago. It was lovely in its focus on the mundane that also transcended to the human commonality of overheard conversations, of using coupons in a market, of frustrations with various websites and apps, and of supporting a friend through a tough time. Only a couple weeks into being housebound the implied out-and-about aspect of the stories carried a strange poignancy. His share of his work inspired others on the Groove to share theirs. One gent shared a couple of his paintings, one a mid-quarantine effort, another an older work, and we all discussed his work, which then inspired another to share hers with all of us. Another shared her art, which was the study of therapy theories, and the idea that all this may be causing some semblance of PTSD, and of course this brought up romance and heartbreak; who hasn’t suffered from heartbreak, and now we have this experience to share. Our writer dropped off after a good two hours, and three more joined later for the extended hang.
The readings are fun, and more will come. But Tuesday, three days ago, the severity of what we are dealing with somehow hit hard. I can only assume that if I’m feeling this now then so are others, so I threw out a last minute event and true to form, a large number showed up, some for the first time. The conversation meandered as it does, from the virus to the banal to the latest television or beauty product we’re encountering. We all agreed we needed that “fix” that day, that moment, and we applauded each other and our effort and for showing up.
