JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

“We believe we are staying home, reading books and watching television, but, in fact, we are readying ourselves for a battle over a new reality that we cannot even imagine, slowly coming to understand that nothing will ever be the same.” Olga Tokarczuk in the New Yorker.

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Glanced at my phone and realized that it’s Maundy Thursday. As I had not set a reminder, the phone took it upon itself to call my attention. It also judges me silently for my increased screen time.

In years past, though less frequently in recent years, someone would be singing the pasyon (the epic narrative of the passion of the Christ) around now. The tune would change according to the singer’s musical tastes—I have heard the pasyon sung to the tune of “Hey, Jude.”

Before the constant noise of the city deafened us to our own thoughts there were the cries of hawkers walking up and down the streets. In Quezon City where I grew up there were vendors selling sweet tofu (Ta-HO!), duck eggs with fertilized embryos (Ba-LUUUT!), banana fritters (Maruya!) and boiled corn (Bi-na-TOOOG!) There were men with wooden beds on their backs (Kama!) and knife sharpeners (HA-sa!) Where my sister lives there is still an itinerant shoe repair man who fixes and shines their footwear (He was delighted at the sturdiness of my 20-year-old Doc Martens). A smiling old man named Exequiel used to sell vegetables on our street. In the provinces, someone told me, the services of stud boars would be advertised by men walking the streets shouting the local words for fucking.

Today it’s even quieter than it’s been all month. The New York Times, my primary source of news about the Cuomo Brothers, reports that the lockdowns worldwide have “turned the roar of urban life to a whisper” on seismographs. The world has been too fortissimo of late, and noise pollution has warranted less attention than the other pollutions.

“Might it not be the case that we have returned to a normal rhythm of life?” Olga Tokarczuk asks in a melancholy essay in the New Yorker. “That it isn’t that the virus is a disruption of the norm, but rather exactly the reverse—that the hectic world before the virus arrived was abnormal?” We discussed her wonderful mystery novel Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of the Dead at our book club in January. We should call it the Psychic Bibliophibians because this year’s selections have been especially resonant. Our recent, postponed meeting would’ve been about Weather by Jenny Offill, a diary in apocalyptic times. It includes tips on how to make a candle using a can of tuna packed in oil.

It’s so quiet, I feel like Ripley and Jonesy the cat in the Nostromo, listening for the xenomorph. Lots of UFO sightings these days, people hoping for aliens to intervene in this crisis.

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If you read the Reuters report with the reaction from WHO, it says cats and ferrets can be infected with coronavirus and show symptoms. They can get it from humans. There’s no evidence they can transmit it to humans. What this means is that if a cat has been in contact with an nCov+ person, the cat should be quarantined as well. (If Larry the cat at No. 10 Downing St has been chummy with Boris Johnson he should be kept indoors, but I rely on the cat’s good taste.) So keep your cats indoors and don’t panic. If you feed outdoor cats you should already be using gloves and masks anyway.

Of course some halfwits will overreact and throw away their cats. They don’t deserve cats, who are a major source of comfort in isolation. The cats will be miserable, but they’re well rid of the halfwits and they will have their revenge. By the way, dumping your pets is against the law. The government may be busy, but animal rights advocates are watching you. Also, a different test is administered to animals so don’t hate them if they’re tested ahead of you.

Stay safe, and mind the reading comprehension.