Maybe it was the caffeine, but my inner prism caught the sun, a rainbow arched through my chest, and my heart tap danced. I’m doing okay, I thought.
I shaved my legs this morning. A blind leap of faith is what it was. I truly believe I’m going out again someday, so I’m practicing my social skills.
Billie Best reads 57, a poem she wrote for herself on her 57th birthday.
I’m stuck in a surreal bending of time. My calendar is empty for the rest of my life, or at least until this situation sorts itself out, which I now realize could be many months. I shudder and focus on the things I can control, like setting the microwave for Continue Reading
Billie reads a poem from her book and talks about how creativity helps her adapt to isolation and protect her mental health during the pandemic.
I’m cooking a lot, eating three meals a day at home, mostly rice and beans. My taste buds are bored, but my intestines are thrilled. This is my new normal.
I think the pandemic is putting a new spin on the Golden Rule: I protect you, you protect me. The way we do that is by wearing homemade facemasks.