I’ll lay off the doom and gloom after this, but this is what “personal responsibility” has given the five-state area in the Upper Midwest. I live in Minnesota. Three weeks ago, we were at about 25 or 30 (per 100k people) on the rate of infections while ND, WI and SD raged in coronavirus cases. This is what happens when all of your neighbors (all on this list except for Wyoming) decide coronavirus “will just magically go away” and act as if their personal desires outweigh their responsibility to their fellow citizens. Four of the states below are “red states”. Minnesota has been “blue” for as long as I can remember and Wisconsin just “flipped” to “blue” in the last election. So much for those “red” states (which have lower population densities) being so much better about the “blue state problem”. And thanks to a bunch of idiots, we’ve now skyrocketed from about the mid-40s to nearly 120 cases per 100k people in just over a week or two.
As the Church Lady would say; “Well, isn’t that special?”
Well, my earlier powers of prognostication were wrong and I was able (barely) to generate the absolute bare minimum of writing required to make par for day two. It exhausted me and, after doing so, I required a long and fitful rest filled with more visitations (maybe I should see a doctor about that) and strong urge to tell the world to sincerely fuck off and slumber for the rest of my remaining days.
Alas! I was called once again to play master chef and, with tears in my eyes, I dragged myself out of a not-quite-dead-yet state to wrangle up some grub for the resident monsters.
While I am proud of my commitment to the cause to write a truncated day’s worth of writing (about half of what is required and a third of what I wrote yesterday), I am loath to note that my creativity has left like a wet fart out of my brain cavity and left me with just cantankerous dwellings on life in general.
And the days march on ever closer to November and a great number of things that will occur in this particular November, you may not be totally surprised (assuming you’ve been paying attention) that I am waffling a bit on the extent of my participation with NaNoWriMo.
I’m starting to get the mental gears greased for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and decided to try to write improvised stories of varying length and likely questionable quality as part of the process on a daily basis for the days remaining until NaNoWriMo starts in earnest. The inspiration for each piece will come from scrolling through my Home page on Pinterest until I find a picture I feel (for whatever reason) to be inspirational as my prompt. The length may vary, but each piece will have a target length of at least 1700 words, as that is near the minimum required on a daily basis to complete the NaNoWriMo challenge. Only minimal edits are done with the results below and the work is the effort of a single writing session.
I always welcome people who want to be “buddies” on the NaNo site. My user name is Michael_Raven, if you want to link accounts.
[Length: 1785 words]
Lucas heard the feral dogs before he saw them. They were whining in frustration, growling and intermittently barking as if doing all of these things would somehow get their quarry to acquiesce and come out from whatever hidey-hole they were in and subject themselves to being made dinner. Even pigeons, largely lacking a sense of self-preservation even now, when there were no people to cater to lazy feeding habits by tossing out breadcrumbs, wouldn’t succumb to such tactics. Yet, the dogs carried on barking, whining and growling in their denial of “things as they are”.