Quarantine Diary No. 1
Adult Spring Break. Create-A-Player. Bad movies. Great tunes.
It’s been two weeks and “Hello, all you cool cats and kittens” has already jumped the shark. There goes my first blog introduction since October.
There is little doubt in my mind that we are living in the defining moment of our lives — and I’m not talking about the mystery surrounding Carole Baskin’s missing first husband, either. I hope this entry finds you feeling well, healthy, and taking every necessary precaution to help the world beat this thing. Never before in our lifetimes have our actions had such a direct result on the health and safety of our families, friends, neighbors, communities and society as a whole. It’s weird to think that doing as little as possible is the right thing to do during a worldwide crisis. Global pandemics are weird things, I guess.
In recent months, maybe even years, I’ve struggled to process the term “lucky.” Does luck really exist? If it does, how does luck choose whom it will and won’t help? Is there a luck lottery that I need to sign up for? Does luck strike like lightning? Does luck show up to my doorstep like an old school Western Union telegram? Maybe it shows up unannounced with a camera crew and one of those obnoxiously gigantic Publishers Clearing House checks that no bank would ever accept.
”It’s written in glitter, man!”
If this global pandemic has taught me anything thus far, it’s that luck, be it real or contrived, is situational. I know for a fact that I am lucky in this moment. Lucky to be home, safe, still receiving a paycheck, and able to write this nonsense before you. So far, the more than 10 million of our fellow Americans that have filed for unemployment in the last two weeks are not so fortunate. The countless doctors, nurses and medical professionals that are exhausting themselves to save us don’t have that luxury either. The stories from my friends and family that work in the medical world have been nothing short of horrific, and their actions and selflessness are nothing short of heroic. I’m lucky to be able to sit on my ass and watch Joe Exotic music videos until the wee hours of the morning, hiding myself from the terrors of this pandemic, while they are neck deep in it, our real-life super heroes.
For those of us who are quarantined at home, we’ve all found different ways to cope with our new reality. We’re working from home, exercising in our living rooms, hosting video happy hours, educating our kids (your kids, not my kids), reading books we’ve put off, finding new hobbies, making terrible TikTok videos, and reconnecting with old pals — maybe even old flames.
For me, my anxiety levels have ranged from, “Man, I guess I’m not getting a haircut for a while” to something sort of resembling “OH MY GAWD CAN I SACRIFICE MYSELF TO SAVE JOHN PRINE!?!!?”
Selfishly, I was looking forward to our two-week (now four week) forced quarantine from work. I had been burning my candle at both ends as of late, broadcasting two to four basketball games a week while also trying to keep up with my real job at the Tennessee House of Representatives in the organized pandemonium that is our legislative session. Getting home at odd hours, eating at even odder times, wearing the same suit for days in a row, and looking like I could be Ryan Phillippe’s strung out little brother was kind of the norm. Selfishly, I welcomed the break.
I entered this quarantine with the mindset that I would use it as both a mental and physical reset. I would finally pick up those books that I had put off for months. I’d turn on those classic movies from the 60’s and 70’s I’d always wanted to watch. I’d catch up on the sleep I desperately needed. I’d cook all of my meals. I’d work out every day. I’d keep in contact with all my friends and family. I would treat this quarantine like my own personal self-care work week. I was going to be productive, dammit.
Instead, this quarantine has turned into 31-year old Jake being home for adult Spring Break. I’ve read two chapters of a book I first started last July. I’ve only watched overtly violent and cheesy action movies with a couple live-action Disney flicks thrown in for an attempt at a moral course correction. I haven’t got a clue as to what time I actually fall asleep. Chocolate bars and Chips A’hoy after 9PM have become my dinner. I skip lunch every damn day. I am a heathen.
As a creature of habit, this quarantine has completely thrown off my natural clock of productivity. On a normal day, I wake up at 6:30AM. Brush my teeth, wash my face, tie my tie, crank the blender, and I’m out the door by 7:15 at the latest. Shit, now, I don’t brush my teeth or put on deodorant until 2PM. I haven’t worn anything other than sweat pants in almost two weeks. My hair and beard haven’t been tended to since the Big Ten Tournament was cancelled. I am Jason Segal in Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
“…if they were Sean John sweatpants it would have been fine, but because they were Costco brand its, like, the worst thing I could do.”
The only reason I work out and run every day is because by the time 3PM rolls around my FitBit tells me I’ve taken a grand total of 287 steps — I then realize what a waste of space I’ve been.
So I’ll go for a run around my neighborhood and wave at fellow runners and walkers the same way your grandpa waves at oncoming traffic on a two lane road. I’ll circle back to my house and attempt body weight exercises in my driveway like a much less muscular and narcissistic Terrell Owens. That makes me feel cool and athletic for a short spell, then I shoot “how to make a margarita” videos for Instagram because — well, I don’t really know why. We’ll call it personal morale.
Oddly enough the biggest hindrance to my self-righteous productivity has been video games. I don’t even own a video game system and haven’t for years, but my roommate does, and I now hate him for it. Being sucked in by the siren song of the Xbox One has absolutely killed any and all productivity from yours truly. My defense is that I’ve been using hours of playing NBA 2K as a substitute for real sports. At least that is what I have been telling myself. My therapist says this is unhealthy.
I’ve been hooked on NBA 2K for the last week and a half like I was when I was in middle school and playing video games in all my free time. As I did as a kid, I still love to create myself in the game’s Create-A-Player mode. It’s the closest I’ll ever come to playing professional basketball. Except now, when I create myself in the game, I try to make Digital Jake look and play as close to Real Jake as possible: 6-foot-5, impeccable hairline, chiseled muscles, only shoots threes, poor foot speed, no defense whatsoever — and not riding the bench. A very, very accurate portrayal.
Back in the day when I would create Digital Jake, I always made myself a perfect rating in every attribute possible. I made Jake Rose the game’s greatest player ever. And I usually tended to come out looking like…well, not how 10-year old Jake actually looked, or even how adult Jake might eventually look in the future. I usually came out looking like Taye Diggs. And if you know anything about Mr. Diggs, you’ll know that I will never resemble him in any way, shape, or form.
See what I mean.
Not a whole lot of room to say “Meh, I kinda see where you’re coming from there. You guys kinda have the same ears.“
Before you even say, “Jake, that’s kind of weird…” just know that I am aware. But I was also the kid who tried to start an R&B group with the other boys in my 4th grade class. My peer’s parents didn’t quite see the same potential that 10-year old me did in 1998. In hindsight, pre-pubescent white boys from a semi-rural Indiana Catholic grade school singing Boyz II Men covers probably wasn’t going to sell out the Apollo.
WHAT I’M WATCHING
Aside from Tiger King, I’ve completely failed to watch a single classic film that I intended to during this quarantine.
(And yes, Tiger King is already considered a classic. Just think of how you felt when Kanye dropped College Dropout back in 2004 and tell me it’s not the same. You just knew it was great from the jump.)
I even made a list of films to check off: Serpico, Raging Bull, Dog Day Afternoon, The Great Escape, The Thomas Crown Affair, Taxi Driver, Vertigo, and Annie Hall.
At the time of this publication, I am now — **checks box score** — 0 for 8. Not good, Bob.
I made it past the opening credits of The Thomas Crown Affair before I inexplicably switched to Pierce Brosnan’s debut as James Bond in 1995’s GoldenEye — a movie whose companion 64-bit video game was far superior to the actual film and became part of pop culture lore for years, so much so the game earned a shoutout in Sturgill Simpson’s “Sea Stories” almost two decades after it’s Nintendo 64 release.
After suffering through GoldenEye and the rest of the Brosnan-era Bond films earlier this week, I found myself immersed in the inescapable, grotesque violence and very-little dialogue of the world of the John Wick franchise. Basically, it’s Keanu Reeves brutally killing roughly 348,082 bad guys over the course of three installments, all in the name of revenge for his puppy’s murder at the hands of Theon Greyjoy.
Looking for childish joy and innocence, I somehow found time to squeeze in the live-action re-tellings of The Lion King and Aladdin. There are no words to describe the disappointment.
I’m not exactly watching art house films with my time off.
WHAT I’M LISTENING TO
For all my sins as a movie consumer over the break, I feel like my musical tastings have brought me back to par. Here are my top five artists and songs I’ve been digging on this week.
“Wherever is your heart” - Brandi Carlile
I’m late to the game when it comes to Carlile. Her debut album dropped in 2005, the same time I was convinced that Brad Paisley was the songwriter of our generation. I was really ignorant to the world at 17. As I’ve developed into a fully-grown adult male, my music tastes have changed to appreciate songs for the depths of their lyrics and their meaning, not how fun they are to drink too many Bud Lights to at summer concerts. You’ll be hard pressed to find anyone of any genre that puts pen to paper better than the 10-time Grammy winner, which makes her blend of rock, folk, and country so perfect. Her latest album, By the Way, I Forgive You was nominated for six Grammy’s alone, winning two, including Best Americana Album for 2019. In these weird and uncertain times of social distancing, the opening track from her 2015 effort, The Firewatcher’s Daughter, has been played on repeat in my house all week long. It just kinda hits the spot.
“Valerie” - Amy Winehouse
I didn’t realize just how popular Amy Winehouse was until after her passing in 2011. Quite frankly, I didn’t know her for anything other than her mega-hit “Rehab,” which I didn’t care for. In retrospect it’s almost too haunting to listen to today. It wasn’t until watching 2015’s Oscar winning documentary Amy, that I realized the near-genius talent that Winehouse was and why her death was so damn heartbreaking. It was after watching that documentary where I first heard Amy’s fun-loving cover of The Zutons “Valerie,” which appears on Mark Ronson’s 2007 album Versions. Turn this one up and have a dance party in your living room.
“DArlin’ ” - HOUNDMOUTH
My fellow Hoosiers hail from New Albany, Indiana, just a hop-skip-and-a-river away from Louisville. The indie-blues band formed in 2011 and their first two albums (From the Hills Below the City, Little Neon Limelight) are a ridiculously fun take on the modern blues. Although their most recent album without former member Katie Toupin on the keys wasn’t my favorite, Houndmouth has enough gusto to prove that, well, Midwestern folks just do it a little bit better.
“Hell of a year” - parker Mccollum
I just discovered McCollum this week as I was deep in a YouTube rabbit hole looking for live performances of the Turnpike Troubadours when I came across McCollum’s live cover of “Good Lord Lorrie” — one of my all-time favorite songs. I went through both of McCollum’s albums on Spotify and as far as modern country albums go, they are pretty good, but “Hell of a Year” was by far the track that stood out the most. It’s by no means a pick-me-up, and I certainly don’t recommend listening to it while you stalk your ex’s Instagram, but it’s damn good nonetheless.
“Best Part” - Daniel Caesar
Daniel Caesar, a 24-year old Ontario native, is further proof that the best song writers are often the ones who use the most simple lyrics to display a greater feeling. As a love song, “Best Part” is just that — simple but great. The album version of “Best Part” is a duet with H.E.R. and is just as dope as this stripped down live version below. The other night — after a few margaritas — this guy I know listened to this song in any capacity that I — uh, he — could find it. And this guy I know may or may not have slid into several different local artists DM’s to convince them to try and cover it.
Anyway, that’s all the Tom Foolery I’ve got for Quarantine Diary entry No. 1. Stay safe out there, everyone. Wash your hands. Keep in contact with your loved ones. And know that from the very bottom of my heart, I hate all of your TikTok videos with the fire of a thousand burning suns.
Until next time.