Happy Memorial Day
Today we've been keeping the doors between the floors open and having a barbecue to "celebrate." None of us are quite feeling confident enough to go outside, not since the business at NUMC yesterday, but I brought the indoor/outdoor George Foreman in from the deck, cleaned it up, and it pretty much has worked fine. The Leopolds had some frozen patties they were saving for a special occasion. This was special enough. Amy and I still had like one veggie burger that had fallen out of the box and was hidden behind a big vat of Edy's ice cream at the bottom of the freezer. That's what she had. Pretty much.
The main thing is that when we were down on the Leopold's floor playing with the dogs Amy went into the bathroom, and I followed her in and saw she was standing on the scale. 96 pounds. With clothes. I don't know how I didn't notice before. Part of it, I guess, is that everyone stays so bundled up, even inside. It's a tough habit to shake. Another part is that obviously we've all had other things to worry about. On the other hand, how SCREAMINGLY OBVIOUS should it be that an anorexic vegetarian with almost crippling mortality issues might have trouble with a massive epidemic of cannibalism? Our therapist is dead, she hasn't been able to get in touch with her own therapist since this all started, he's probably dead too, the Renfrew Center god only knows, and it's ridiculous to even think about that anyway. Meanwhile there's only so much food to go around, and there's only so much she'll eat anyway. The oatmeal plan has been pretty helpful, so I'm going to make sure she's sticking to it, like glue. We'll save other things for, you know, special occasions.
I know she misses her family, her dogs. I know she doesn't want to lose anyone, doesn't believe that loss is "natural," feels like she can't survive the everyday tragedies of life let alone this hideousness. I know I couldn't save her from herself before and I can't do it now.
The main thing is that when we were down on the Leopold's floor playing with the dogs Amy went into the bathroom, and I followed her in and saw she was standing on the scale. 96 pounds. With clothes. I don't know how I didn't notice before. Part of it, I guess, is that everyone stays so bundled up, even inside. It's a tough habit to shake. Another part is that obviously we've all had other things to worry about. On the other hand, how SCREAMINGLY OBVIOUS should it be that an anorexic vegetarian with almost crippling mortality issues might have trouble with a massive epidemic of cannibalism? Our therapist is dead, she hasn't been able to get in touch with her own therapist since this all started, he's probably dead too, the Renfrew Center god only knows, and it's ridiculous to even think about that anyway. Meanwhile there's only so much food to go around, and there's only so much she'll eat anyway. The oatmeal plan has been pretty helpful, so I'm going to make sure she's sticking to it, like glue. We'll save other things for, you know, special occasions.
I know she misses her family, her dogs. I know she doesn't want to lose anyone, doesn't believe that loss is "natural," feels like she can't survive the everyday tragedies of life let alone this hideousness. I know I couldn't save her from herself before and I can't do it now.
posted by Sean T. Collins at 5:48 PM
3 Comments:
still alive.
David
Jesus! Thank God. Dave, have you given any thought to traveling East? What are the major roads like out there? Is there a point where, if you got far enough out from the city, you'd be able to use a car?
As terrified as I am of the deads we've lost more friends to the armed "survivor teams" cops and firefighters and their friends who took over the capitol hill police station in the first few days of the outbreak. you remember I wrote about how our friend twig died? in the first few days that five story police fortress was like a gun turret that never stopped spitting bullets and empty beercans. they shot at everything, including us when we first ran by there. we were on bikes. fucking zombies dont ride bikes. when we were hiding in the zine library we were only blocks away from there and we could here the shooting stop one day. we all had a good laugh, some dead things got in and ate up the pigs. not the case. they just started saving bullets for their supplies runs. they shot up a squat (i guess everybody is squatting now) where we were planning on meeting up with some friends. they shoot up a building before they even go in, for good measure. horrible.
you write about fires. a good deal of north seattle looks to be on fire but we havent met anybody from up there in a long time.
you mention escaping seattle. Our group is sixteen people right now. I've seen 13 friends die and I've killed 15 zombies and two living people. we have guns and axes and those solar panels and duffles with cans of food and a bunch of gasoline. we have held nine different locations since this started. I've learned that at least two bridges out of the city are destroyed and the tunnel has some kinda barricade up. Janet was up near ballard at the start of this and she saw the docks on fire.
I guess we a quarantined. You wrote a while ago about how not every corpse gets up. not the case here. they all get up and there are so many corpses.
how are things in the united states? the kids in seattle would like to say fuck you and goodbye from us to US. we are gonna survive. Z wants to make it to the pirate lands in upper oregon. I bet those people are still alive. maybe we will go for it. still following consensus process and still respecting one another and helping the people we come across, that's how we replace our numbers and justify our fighting on.
I dont want to die anymore. I really did when we were starving and trapped in the zine library. still not told you how we got out of there. dont want to think about it.
sean, thanks for finding my parents. I figured.
Ken, did you make it to brklyn? any news on Lou and the baby?
crying so much. learning the flute.
love you,
Davey Oil
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