CHRIS WELLS
  • Home
  • Testimonials
  • Upcoming Workshops
  • Writing Life
  • Purchase
  • BLOG
  • Contact
  • The Secret City

"...the highly structured format means that tons of writing gets done, so that when the workshop is over you can barely recognize your work, it's grown so much."

Could It Be...?

4/27/2020

0 Comments

 
Lately when someone asks how I am doing--Are you safe? Are you ok? Are you healthy?

My answer has been, Yes, I have no hardships: an it’s true: I love where we live, there are groceries in the fridge, the rent is paid and we’re healthy. And, being work self-employed artists, Bobby and I are both used to working at home.

The big challenge is when I have to go out in the world and yesterday was the day.

First I ordered sandwiches for lunch. I’ve been cooking a lot, which is great, but I do give myself an occasional break and order something to pick up.

The country market where I love to go has a great set up—call in your order, wait outside in your car until it’s your turn, only one shopper allowed in the store at a time. Everyone’s wearing masks and gloves, just like me.

After paying, walking back out to my car, two women appeared from around the corner, one of them looked at me in my mask and blue gloves and smirked then she looked at her friend? Did the other woman roll her eyes? They had no masks, no gloves.

A lot of city folks been coming upstate, perhaps thinking that, just by being here they’re practicing social distancing. For a moment I gave them the benefit of the doubt.

They then began walking to their respective cars. I did the math: they had come from their respective homes to meet, maybe they took a walk together with neither gloves nor masks. The word blithely came to mind, they blithely did these things.

Should I say something? These seemed to be my options: Hi, I was wondering if you two might be practicing social distancing? Or, I could say, what the hell is wrong with you people?

I said nothing, went home and enjoyed a delicious mozzarella sandwich with pesto.

A little while later I needed to have a prescription delivered.
I called CVS.

“Pharmacy,” the man answered, sounding gruff and mildly sedated.

“Hi,” I said. “I just have a question.” Just. As if a question is an inconsequential thing, as if every single thing in the world isn’t suddenly in question.

Turns out I had waited too long to have my medication delivered so I’d have to go pick it up. I knew from experience that, tragically, the CVS does not have a call ahead, one person in the story policy in place.

Suddenly the world outside loomed, with those scary things called humans walking around, each one like a ticking bomb no one can hear. Each one a potential assassin.

Lately I find myself thinking: “Man, when this is all over, I can’t wait to tell people what I’ve been through,” like when you go on a trip and you think, this is going to make a great story, because you’re having a unique experience then suddenly I remember: EVERYONE IS HAVING A UNIQUE EXPERIENCE. Everyone is on a no-expenses paid exotic trip to a land called Covid 19. And, I don’t know about you, but my trip isn’t very exotic at all, “well, the first day of the trip I stayed home.” “Yes, then what?” “Um, let’s see, second day of our trip, I stayed home.” It’s the longest, most expensive trip to nowhere ever!

The parking lot of the drugstore was packed. What are these people doing? I thought. My errand is of utmost importance but the rest of these people—IDIOTS.

It’s remarkable how quickly I can go from let it all hang out to government informant.

Inside the CVS I surveyed the other shoppers: “Hm, what’s wrong with her?” Then, “Seriously, dude, a bandanna wrapped around your face?” The guy ahead of me in line didn’t have gloves so I was grateful when he paid for cash because I didn’t want to have to deal with the debit card thingy with its stylus and punching the numbers if he had touched it.

I made a note that I should think about printing up some tickets to hand out to people I see not complying with the rules.

After that we went for our grocery run…trying to cut down on the number of trips into the world, right?

We pulled into another packed parking lot, Bobby attacked the back of the store, I took the front and we would meet in the check out line, which by the time I got there was twenty people long. Not bad, really, considering a friend in Brooklyn said she spent four hours getting groceries yesterday.

The reward to all of this being out in the world anxiety and excitement was to go for a walk at the preserve I’ve been going to lately. Wide open space, you can see if there are other people on the paths and you can change direction easily. It was a sparkling day, sunny with momentary sprays of light rain.

We want things to be fixed, don’t we? We want to know on which aisle the mayonnaise is located. We want to know that we won’t run out of our medication, that our neighbors aren’t a threat. We want to know. We want to know. We want to know.

And yet, who are we to expect consistency? Who are we to expect resolution? I don’t yet fully believe what I’m about to say—but isn’t it possible that it is our birthright to live in doubt, that it is a great opportunity to experience ambiguity? Could it even be a privilege to not know how things will turn out?
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Author

    Chris Wells leads dynamic, life-changing writing workshops.

    Archives

    September 2020
    August 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    October 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    October 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014

    Categories

    All
    A Brief History Of Seven Killings
    Adam Zameenzad
    A Fine Balance
    Alexander Chee
    Alexander Dumas
    Alice Walker
    A Little Life
    Almanac Of The Dead
    Americannah
    Amy Tan
    Anatole Broyard
    Ancestor Stones
    Angela Fluornoy
    Another Country
    A Tale For The Time Being
    At The Bottom Of The River
    August Wilson
    Bad Feminist
    Balm In Gilead: Journey Of A Healer
    Barbarian Nurseries
    Beloved
    Ben Okri
    Between The World And Me
    Billie Holiday
    Blue Boy
    Book Of Salt
    Breath
    Brief Wondrous Life Of Oscar Wao
    Bright Lines
    Brontez Purnell
    Bryan Stevens
    Cane
    Castle Cross The Magnet Carter
    Caucasia
    Ceremony
    Chester Himes
    Chimamanda Ngosi Adache
    Citizen
    Claudine Rankine
    Collected Plays
    Colson Whitehead
    Danzy Senna
    Days Of Obligation
    Delicious Foods
    Edwidge Dandica
    Edwidge Dandicat
    Elizabeth Alexander
    Erasure
    Eyes
    Famished Road
    Fledgling
    Frederick Douglas
    Gabriel Garcia Marquez
    George Harriman
    Giovanni's Room
    Gorilla My Love
    Hanya Yanagihara
    Hector Tobar
    Hired Man
    Homegoing
    House Of The Spirits
    House On Mango Street
    Hunger
    If He Hollers Let Him Go
    I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Invisible Man
    Isabel Allende
    Isabel Wilkerson
    Ishmael Beah
    Jamaica Kincaid
    James Baldwin
    James Hanniham
    Jazz
    Jean Toomer
    Johnny Would You Love Me If My Dick Were Bigger?
    Joy Luck Club
    Jumpa Lahiri
    Jumpha Lahiri
    Jung Chang
    Junot Diaz
    Just Mercy
    Kafka Was All The Rage
    Kaitlyn Greenidge
    Kerri Hulme
    Kia Corthron
    Kindred
    Krazy Kat
    Krik? Krak!
    Lady Sings The Blues
    Last Report On The Miracles At Little No Horse
    Leslie Marmon Silko
    Leslie Marmon Silko.
    Lone Ranger And Tonto Fistfight In Heaven
    Louise Erdrich
    Love Bones And Water
    Love In The Time Of Cholera
    Love Medicine
    Margo Jefferson
    Marlon James
    Maxine Hong Kingston
    Maya Angelou
    Memory
    Memory Of Love
    Michael Eric Dyson
    Michael Twitty
    Michelle Alexander
    Monique Truong
    My Bondage And My Freedom
    My Year Of Meats
    Naomi Jackson
    Native Son
    Natsuo Kirino
    Negroland
    N. K. Jemisin
    Octavia Butler
    Olio
    On Beauty
    One-Bedroom Solo
    One Hundred Years Of Solitude
    Out
    Parable Of The Sower
    Paul Beatty
    Percival Everett
    Plague Of Doves
    Push
    Queen Of The Night
    Radiance Of Tomorrow
    Rakesh Satyal
    Ralph Ellison
    Richard Rodriguez
    Richard Wright
    Rohinton Mistry
    Roxane Gay
    Ruth Ozeki
    Samuel R. Delany
    Sandra Cisneros
    Sapphire
    Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot
    Sheila Maldonado
    Sherman Alexie
    Sula
    Suzan Lori Parks
    Swing Time
    Ta Nahesi Coates
    Tanwi Nandini Islam
    Tears We Cannot Stop
    The Absolutely True Story Of A Part Time Indian
    The Autobiography Of Malcolm X
    The Bluest Eye
    The Bone People
    The Color Purple
    The Cooking Gene
    The Count Of Monte Cristo
    The Fire Next Time
    The God Of Small Things
    The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms
    Their Eyes Were Watching God
    The Light Of The World
    The Lowland
    The Ministry Of Utmost Happiness
    The New Jim Crow
    The Roundhouse
    The Sellout
    The Star Side Of Bird Hill
    The Sympathizer
    The Turner House
    The Underground Railroad
    The Warmth Of Other Suns
    Times Square Blue
    Times Square Red
    Toni Cade Bambara
    Toni Morrison
    Topdog Underdog
    Tyehimba Jess
    Venus
    Viet Thanh Nguyen
    Walkin' The Dog
    Walter Mosely
    We Love You Charlie Freeman
    White Teeth
    Wild Swans
    William Dufty
    Woman Warrior
    Yaa Gyasi
    You Don't Have To Say You Love Me-
    Zadie Smith
    Zora Neale Hurston

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly
  • Home
  • Testimonials
  • Upcoming Workshops
  • Writing Life
  • Purchase
  • BLOG
  • Contact
  • The Secret City