Control: Sleep and Coronavirus

I, Dalton Lewis, sleep way too much. I lie on the couch, trying to stay awake and failing. When I sleep I fight hard to wake up, but it takes at least twelve hours to wake up. I sleep over twelve hours a day, and I don’t know why. Paranoid schizophrenia causes some of it. Antipsychotic medications slow down my body’s metabolism to a crawl. I also don’t have a lot of motivation to wake up and get things done — I have no emergency appointments in the mornings. I don’t need to get up. Also depression has caused me to sit in my room, doing nothing, for hours on end.

Also Coronavirus is spreading like crazy. One day there were 22 cases, and a couple of weeks later, there are 1000 cases in the United States of America. This disease kills two percent of its victims. Washing hands and not touching one’s face are the best, most high-tech ways we have found for stopping this thing. That sounds great.

Don’t we have labs and labs of doctors and geniuses just thinking shit up, all day, every day, to better us? Can’t some of those people start to cure this fucking coronavirus? I don’t think that our medical care is as sophisticated as we think it is if the world hasn’t cured this thing. This is a big-money, big-attention thing. Someone should cure this thing. I know; revolutionary idea, they’re trying, etc. I just think that we should have a cure for this thing sometime.

I mean — there were a few hundred cases in China one day and thousands the next. It just seems to me that people ignore this and say it won’t be big, and then several days later those same people say, oh fuck, oh fuck, people are dying, what do we do? Now we have entire cities and parts of countries in which few people are leaving their homes. We have a significant health crisis and we aren’t seeming to do very much to stop it.

Here’s where we needed a better president. I haven’t complained about Donald Trump nearly as much as my friends and family, but I’m complaining now. We need to cure this shit, and soon. We’re supposed to be world leaders. We’re supposed to be saving the planet and so on. We need to take the initiative to cure this coronavirus before millions of people have died.

We might die. Some of our loved ones might die. I sit around, reading books and playing video games, and I might die. I will eventually die of something. I plug away on my exercise bike, day after day, to try to get into shape and not die prematurely. I try to fight to make something of myself, but when something like this happens, I feel very small and unimportant. I want to mean something, and I want people to cure this thing. I also want to sleep less. Why can’t we solve these things? Discuss, or not, as always.

Thanks, and take care, friends.

Dalton Lewis wrote a fantasy novel about a group of young philosophers.