Coping in Covid: A Writer's Journal

This past Monday, spoke to shopkeepers, co-workers, friends, acquaintances, even exes, and detected that the pandemic has turned things into a longer-standing "fuckaroo", to quote Stephen King's  Dreamcatcher  (stellar beginning, in that novel BTW).    This thing has ground them down, whether they are weathering bitter divorce, loneliness, anxiety, grief, depression, panic or isolation, and ossifying sadness, defeatist views, even  an inability to compromise after being solitary for so long. But light is coming through the cracks. Vaccinations, if you are lucky enough, are happening. Socializing is slowly expanding, but exhausting (we are not used to it). Pace yourself. Treat yourself as you would others, but better. Try to be there for your peeps. If you can, reach out. Send a word-kind, encouraging, loving or event titillating, or give hope. This thing has gotten to everyone. I might go into more detail later, with whys and wherefores, but the philosophy remains the sam

I have been dealing with the highs and lows of stress and anxiety in the house through a variety of means, some better than others. My healthier coping mechanisms include consistent stretching and push-up and sit-ups, as well as walks, and a regular viewing of films of interest and reading of promising comic books. Then there is my consistent-yet-moderate imbibing of lagers and amber ales. Add to that a consumption of the Green—and not the kind that Alan Moore referred to in  Swamp Thing ,  but the legalized-in-Canada variety. My forays into sex-positive porn include HarpertheFox, AmberCutie, DirtyPrincessPH, kinkysolveig Kendra Kennedy, being fun and sexy models of wonderful and different body types and sizes. They all share a sort of energy exchange and rapport with the viewer, their co-porn stars, and in their exhibitionism and attitude. As I get older, I find that amateur or amateurish porn is the most rewarding, without the slick sheen of pro porn, the obsession with shaving w