Inner Doodles

Here we sit - or stand if you have a tall drafting table type desk, or if you're pacing with your phone, or outside having a smoke, leaning on the bricks in the rain (I hope you've got a warm rain jacket tonight) - it's 2021. A new year.  And yet, it doesn't feel so new anymore does it? When I leave the house I do my check: wallet, keys, phone, mask, sanitizer. The latter two no longer seem bizarre. I no longer feel as if I stepped into an Bradbury novel. Now it is unusual to see an unmasked person. I try to release my tension when they approach. Is it rude to cross the street? I remember learning to cross the street as a young girl. "Watch out for that man with a crazed look in his eye, he reeks of alcohol from here." Now we all have crazed looks in our eyes, and the only smell is our own breath. It's time to wash the masks again.  At least it isn't Handmaid's Tale.  Cat talks more and more each day. Demanding the wet food be available at all seco...

(A by-the-way-this-also-happened-in-Week-9-but-was-unrelated-to-Gradschool-Black-Hole side note) Our feline companion's ear has gotten worse. We had to find a facility that would take him and allow us to remain in the car. The drive-through veterinarian was not an experience I ever thought I'd have in this life time. Chief Mate and I took the expedition together. He had not left the neighborhood in ... (blank thought bubble) ... let's just say, quite some time. I was beginning to think he may not remember what it feels like to sit in a car. Getting Oliver in the carrier was not easy. After three failed attempts to shove the beast through the tiny door (how did Oliver get so big??) and Chief Mate laughing hysterically, I tried putting treats in the back of the crate. But it was too little too late and Oliver was far from dumb. He made sure to give me a side-eye and silent meow in protest of my feeble effort. We had to take the crate apart and rebuild it around him. ...

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...

I can’t help but notice that the number of days on the log are the same as a certain Danny Boyle film. I imagine chimp-virus zombies climbing our hill. Fast ones. The worst kind. “The fire is blocking our path! We have to stop it!” Chief Mate cries. Co-Captain mans the grill while I lounge on my new bench. Smoke billows from the round black receptacle. We have no lighter fluid. “I need something to block the smoke from my face,” Chief Mate remarks. “What-ho! We have just been given such a face cover from a far distant ally...” “Why are you talking like that?” Chief Mate interrupts. Maybe I was pretending to be King Ezekiel for a second. I’ve got zombies on the brain. Not literally. The meat looks vaguely like brain matter. I try to steer my thoughts elsewhere. I watch the smoke. It may be hours before we eat. But the weather is pleasant, as is the company, and I have absolutely nothing else to do tonight. I don’t mind one bit. Unless there is a zombie sighting. That may put a d...

It’d been two weeks since I started the terrain vehicle. Thought it was time to give the ol’ girl some gas. Besides, we needed provisions pretty badly. A line of locals wrapped itself around the building. Face masks on. Six feet apart. “Excuse me,” I hailed a man retrieving the carts from the parking lot. “How long is the wait to get in?” “About 10-15 minutes,” his smile meant the world to me right then. This was real. Our new reality. Face mask on. Six feet apart. Is the mask on right? Is it inside-out? It’s poking me in the eye. How is that even possible? It’s hard to breathe. I open my mouth. I could probably stand to find a mint. Mouth closed, I wait in cue. It’s funny because I have imagined this moment many times. Not this exact moment, of course, but something similar. End-of-the-world shit. Every time I read history or watch movies, I imagine the scenario in our own world. I am plagued by my empathetic nature. But whenever I imagine war, famine, plague, disease, it’s al...