• Harry Jensen

April 5, 2020

I found a note on my phone that says “self-isolation with 20 women,” and I was ashamed. But then I remembered its origin: a tabloid breaking the news that the King of Thailand had fled to a hotel to quarantine with a hastily assembled harem. I usually wouldn’t consider 21 individuals a unified self, but maybe they all get along quite nicely.

It was a good day, full of laughter and muddy fingernails. I weeded the back yard as I listened to a Pharcyde album and the rest of the Garry Shandling interview I started yesterday. For weeding purposes, I used a gangly orange tool with a pedal and a claw that gripped and ripped the four-foot dandelions from the earth, their stems as wide around as quarters.

Everything seemed fresh. It was a beautiful day outside, and we cleaned the house. For the first time, someone cleaned the windows, and the pane in our front door was so delightfully polished that the tree outside looked HD, better through the window than without it.

“Wooooow,” we cooed, runny eyed and awed.

My roommates and I played Cambio for a while, and tried to invent new rules to make it into our own version of CHARDEEMACDENNIS from Sunny. Ours, acronymized with our initials, would be HAT KZAM, or ZAK MATH, or HAZMAT-K. Rules and copyright pending.

We attempted to find a 150-minute Pakistani movie about 9/11 which T described as “more intense than Midsommar.” It wasn’t on Amazon and her computer was busted, so she asked to borrow Bean Curd’s.

“Do you have virus protection, just in case?” she asked him, which is not something particularly comforting to ask when handlingover another human being’s object.

I tried to find the movie by name, but it was in Urdu and I couldn’t quite catch what she said, but I did well enough for Google to spit up a fountain of site like desixxx.com and JustIndianPorn.com. I’m developing an ear for the language is all I’m saying.

I talked with my Uncle and a few friends today. My Uncle mostly wanted to explain the details of a Wells Fargo account scam, and my friend Liam said that he had been doing disaster relief work until the Coronavirus picked up. If you can’t find disaster relief work during a disaster, there’s not much you can do but bide the time and grab a garden hoe, or twenty of them.

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