Road tribs; Ebola; Plotting Techniques

Difficult weekend – as expected.

I remain sub-threshold weepy.

As for example – last night I began thinking about a young woman I’ve known since she was 15 or so, and how at one point I was a sort of mentor to this young woman, but now she’s all grownup and eking out success on the lower rungs of the ladder, so move over, Velveteen Rabbit. Etc.

Actually, the thought was a more complicated vision than that since it also involved an eidetic memory of Duboce Street in the Upper Market circa 1970-something and going through a tunnel on the N Judah trolley line. Which made me think of my mother. Poor Lynnie…

I cried.

These infinitesimal, bright little meaningless fragments of transient memory. A neuron stuck in transmission mode…

###

L and C off to a wedding, so I played hostess to this weekend’s Airbnb guests, which included a rather charming pair of married economics students, originally from Beijing, who’d flown in from Michigan to visit Sagamore Hill and Springwood.

“That’s a lot of driving in one day!” I said.

“Yes, we flew in from Detroit at five in the morning,” said Fan. He spoke almost accentless English. “That’s our hobby – road trips to the graves of American presidents!”

It was obvious from the way he rolled the phrase around in his mouth that he was completely in love with the phrase “road trip.”

“Tomorrow, we’re off to Kinderhook to see Martin Van Buren’s grave. And Chester A. Arthur! It’s rather amusing, really, the way even the most obscure dead Presidents are revered!”

“Well, the U.S. doesn’t have as much history as you do,” I said. “If something’s 200 years old here, that’s a very big deal.”

“You do have one of the longest histories of constitutional government in the world!” Fan pointed out.

“Not quite the same thing,” I said.

###

Also, of course, I’ve been boring everyone I know for at least nine months now about how ISIS-Schmeesus – the only news story that really matters is the Ebola virus, so of course, I was thrilled to read about the second Dallas case. ← Sarcasm.

Seems likely the Dallas healthcare worker – like the Spanish nurse – infected himself by touching his uncovered face with the tips of his gloved fingers. As a former healthcare worker I can tell you that people do that kind of stuff all the time, without thinking about it, even if it does break sterile procedure, because it is virtually impossible to remain in red alert mindfulness at all times.

That said… WHO, the CDC, or whomever is being disingenuous about transmission mode. Floundering on the semantics. If the virus is found in snot, and an infected person sneezes, then the virus is airborne, right? Right.

I think that degree of airborne transmission has been successfully demonstrated in lab animals, and of course the virus remains in semen for three months after recovery – which seems a bit odd to me, because apparently people who’ve survived the virus do form antibodies, and isn’t semen generated from blood more often than every three months? So wouldn’t you expect semen to confer some degree of immunity?

And what an amusing dance it will be when insurance providers announce they have no intention whatsoever of bankrupting themselves by paying for Ebola treatment! It’s an argument for a single payer health care model, to be sure, as a matter of national security. It’s also an argument for prohibiting the entry of all travelers from sub-Saharan Africa until a reliable vaccine is made available, but of course, the American government would much rather delude itself that making people take off their shoes is the most dependable type of airport security. Twinkle toes!

If the blood from survivors really is aiding in treatments as the World Health Organization maintains, than creating a vaccine should not be an impossible goal. The work they’ve done in primates at least indicates that Ebola antibodies last for about a decade after someone has survived an outbreak.

I suspect they could easily have come up with an Ebola vaccine years ago if the economics had supported it. But why should Big Pharmo make a vaccine to help poor Africans, huh?

###

In other news, I’m reading Lev Grossman’s The Magician Land. Lev Grossman is another person I worked with at Time Inc. back in the 90s. He writes what’s called “urban fantasy” – in other words, what Donna Tartt might write if she did Harry Potter fanfic.

I’m reading it because I also write what might be described as “urban fantasy” – at least, that’s how one would describe my Playing-the-Sims-as-a-divinatory-exercise novel, I suppose – and I’m always curious about how other writers structure their material.

Is it any good?

Yes, it's quite engaging.

Plus it has the twin virtues of:

A – Having been written
B – Having been published

Both of which mean that it can actually be read whereas my magnum opus can only be communicated telepathically like if I pretend you’re Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and I’m God, and I touch your finger.

I suppose I really need to figure out who Lev Grossman’s agent is.

Yesterday, as I was out wandering among six acres of so of absolutely abandoned apple orchards that I somehow stumbled across as I was out hiking, I realized that: ( Blithery plot notes to self that only I will find interesting )

See, if only I weren’t feeling so sad and lost, I’d have rewritten that first 5,000 words.

I'd really like to make a pal who enjoys going on road trips as much as I do.