Sometimes I think I should be documenting these weeks to have a record in the future. This seems like the thing we will tell our children about. But, honestly, I’ve found such a balm in old seasons of reality TV. This week, we realized that we spent more time with the contestants of 2016's Love Island UK than our friends. It took an embarrassingly long time to realize that the entire conceit of the show relied on things we are now actively discouraged from doing. And there was some kind of perverse joy in bathing in the pettiness of it all.
As we came to the end of the season, we talked through some of the shame that we had for indulging in it. I think the media we consume works out parts of us, making them stronger. The show green-lit our judgement. But it also green-lit the idea of some sort of strange community, both with the people on screen and the people in front of them at home.
While watching a four-year-old reality show, it’s natural to look up the contestants in real life. Who is still together? Who hates each other? Kids? Weddings? When you do this, the real world creeps in. A contestant that we watch today will hang herself two years after, and will be already buried by the time we watch her first interview as she arrives at the villa full of sexy singles. Another couple will be happily married, with a little child in tow. We assume that they’re at home, quarantined like the rest of us, while the current season is cancelled because of the pandemic that we live in And it all kicks in the teeth of our conscience - regretting how I'm spending some of my time outside of the job I’m still lucky to have.
But sometime next week, I’ll begin training to decontaminate N95 masks, operating a system that Battelle just invented. I may spend weeks away from home and alone. And it will likely be full of long hours and repetition. And I’m thrilled. I’m excited to contribute directly to a solution right now. I feel lucky to have my health and a way to help. I feel lucky to rent an apartment to spend a morning writing in, scored by a beautiful new Laura Marling album.
For the people who ask us about this time in a few decades: I don’t know how this will all be looked back upon, but this is how it feels right now from my point of view inside my apartment, without an idea of when or how this all ends. Happy Easter. We’re all confused. And if you were here too, you might feel the same. I hope this all turns out mild, and no one ever wonders how we were during these months in early 2020. And I hope this story is limited to the early months of 2020. But then again, in January, I was unconcerned, touring Germany with two bandmates that I love very much in a Volkswagen Passat, playing songs in crowded rooms with strangers and sleeping in a different home every night.
So who knows. That’s the main message. No one knows what will happen, and we’re doing our best to make up the rules as we go to try to preserve what’s worth preserving and change what needs to be changed.
Sam - 25 and confused.
