Inner Doodles

A black beetle crawled out of the mound of food that collects because our dear cat can't keep it in his mouth. Moist, partially masticated food is the perfect place for such an insect. He didn't appreciate my sweeping. I named him Alexander. I watched him walk away into the void under our kitchen cabinet. Alone. Without food. The hardest part in all of this is watching loved ones suffer and not being able to help. Sick family members are unable to eat homemade soup for fear of germs that may have been folded into the broth. A friend who desperately needs human contact is unable to answer the door to receive bear hugs. There is no more driving parents to the grocery store or to their routine visits to the doctor. Prescriptions for real life-threatening diseases are running out because idiots in charge are selling them as a false miracle cure. The list of can'ts goes on and on. But my intent is not to make anyone's situation harder than it already is. So, here is a list...

The word Importance carries a certain weight, or heft, if you will. Objects that have Importance can change throughout a lifetime, but the meaning of the word remains more or less unchanged. Our mission, to make it out alive, is Important because humankind is Important. Today I decided to create some art that was more or less Important. I say "more or less" because the Importance of Art is completely and relatively subjective. The Importance and Relevance of these Artworks is entirely representational of my feelings given the current state of World Events, including, but not limited to the shoddy quality of my photography. Audrey White (b. before the pandemic) Where, In Fact, the Sidewalk Actually Ends and the Gas Line Begins, 2020 Photograph Audrey White (b. before the quarantine) Dish-Less Sink With a Side of Dew, 2020 Dewy arugula on found sponge This is by far the most Important Artwork of the past 30 days. It Represents my Satisfaction of a Job We...

Co-Captain and Chief Mate worked on making a sling shot today. He has been instructed not to hit or harm any wildlife. The Inner Child in me loves the sentiment. However, the Inner Beast fully believes we will resort to eating squirrel by June. So ... target practice will calm my instinctual nerves. On a lighter note, I finally got my “snow” (see attached video). Sometimes things don’t turn out the way you want or could possibly imagine. And we must adapt anyway. Keep calm and face mask on. END TRANSMISSION

Walking up and down the aisles of a barren grocery store, I feel disconnected. From what, I can’t quite remember. I push the cart down one row, up the next. They all look the same. The Easter bunnies stare at me. Their adorable eyes mock and tease. Goofy teeth are garish in the fluorescent lighting. I want to squeeze them and bring them home. But I know better. I see dozens of untouched packages of dye for eggs that don’t exist. Seasonal items seem like bric-a-brac these days. Suddenly the aisle begins to shrink. The lighting dims and the grocery store is now a hardware store. Shelves of nails and the pungent and unnatural smell of fertilized soil in a bag. Lo and behold what do I see? A single roll of toilet paper staring at me. It is neatly wrapped in paper. The kind you begrudgingly put on the dispenser while using the restaurant bathroom because no one else will. Suddenly a second roll has appeared on the shelf. I tear up and gently place the two in my cart as if they might disap...

Please tell me we are not the only household losing our damn minds? Humor me, post something ridiculous that YOU have done. Pics, Poem, Flash Fiction Story, Interpretive Dance, and.... GO! END TRANSMISSION

The days are blending into one. It’s all one giant Groundhog Day, but less funny and with significantly less snow. Inner Beasts are itching to escape from every corner of our beings. I entertain Chief Mate and myself with acoustic jingles and spontaneous dance rap songs. Our own life soundtrack, if you will. I will spare you the recordings, although they do exist. Not sure what they will say about us when some future generation finds them. School has yet to formulate, but I have faith it will soon take shape. Many masterminds are working around the clock to make it happen. Math must go on. Reading must recommence. Science must continue to cause speculation. Art ... well you get the idea. Carry on, human race. END TRANSMISSION

The creatures on this planet prove to be strange, but non-threatening. Exhibit A releases a terrible stench when agitated, but I believe it to be non-toxic. The creature in Exhibit B does not move even when the shiny orbed aliens come in for an attack. Chief Mate fended them off crying, “Save the frog! Kill the bubbles!” Life remains exciting despite confinement. END TRANSMISSION

The stiffness is setting in. My body won’t stand up straight anymore. Corporate wants things to go back to normal this week. We all know this is a feeble attempt to regain control. The definition of normal has shifted tremendously. Control is an illusion. My body aches. If you exercise, your brain shuts off the stress valve. A therapist once told me this. She said that when you exercise your brain is physically incapable of releasing stress signals and the exercise allows your body and mind to meditate. Imagine actually being able to let go of these plaguing thoughts. Even for just a few minutes. Watching a 17 minute math-teaching video in my swivel stool hurts more than you can imagine. I decided to humor my therapist. “American teachers teach to get the right answer.” Boxer shuffle feels good. “Japanese teachers teach to understand a math concept.” Punch, punch, punch, punch. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. “If we teach with next week’s test in mind,” Lunge, 2, 3, 4. “Students mi...