The Internal Monologue of a Gen X’er Over Twelve Days of the Covid-19 Quarantine—Via Sparkling Rosé and 1980’s Pop Rock Lyrics

Day One: What is happening here? Something is going on that’s not quite clear. Suddenly the day turns into night. It’ll work itself out fine; all we need is just a little patience. This is a story about control. My control: control of what I say, control of what I do. Are we ready? If this world makes you crazy, and you’ve taken all you can bear, you call me up—because you know I’ll be there. Don’t look at it like it’s forever.

Day Two: Take my hand and we’ll make it – I swear. Livin’ on a prayer. I’ve got to have faith. Don’t worry, be happy. In every life we have some trouble, but when you worry you make it double. Yes, it’s true; I’m happy to be stuck with you, because I can see that you’re happy to be stuck with me.

Day Three: Don’t be cruel. Girl, you need to change your attitude. Your butt is mine… I sit here on the stairs ’cause I’d rather be alone. I’m telling you—just watch your mouth. I know your game, what you’re about.

Day Four: She drives me crazy like no one else. I don’t know why I did the things I did; I don’t know why I said the things I said. Hard to go on—it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sitting in a back room, waiting for the big boom. Who’s zoomin’ who?

Day Five: Now the lights are going out along the boulevard; shadows grow so long before my eyes. The landlord say your rent is late; he may have to litigate. Mandy’s in the back room handing out valium. So take a look at me now, cause there’s just an empty space. Heaven help me.

Day Six: Oh, oh, oh, for the longest time. We both lie silently still in the dead of the night. I watch you when you are sleeping. Romeo and Juliet, they never felt this way, I bet.

Day Seven: Man, living at home is such a drag. Do you understand? Do you feel the same? Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go… Every breath you take and every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you.

Day Eight: Help! I’m steppin’ into the Twilight Zone. Place is a madhouse. I’m not much into health food; I am into champagne. But then you ate so much, you nearly split your pants. Whatever you do, don’t put the blame on you; blame it on the rain yeah, yeah.

Day Nine: How I’ll ever get out of this I don’t know—I just know there’s just no way to fight it. Don’t hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself. Don’t stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me. A singer in a smoky room; a smell of wine and cheap perfume…

Day Ten: I hear the ticking of the clock. I’m lying here; the room’s pitch dark. And the night goes by so very slow. Alone. I wanna have some fun, move my body all night long. Got no money and you got no car. Some frustration—first inclination is to become a monk and leave the situation. When I’m feelin’, I hate this feelin’: Lost in emotion. Yes, for now, we’ll go on living separate lives.

Day Eleven: All I need is a miracle. We are the world; we are the children. But every dark tunnel has a light of hope. We’re hangin’ tough. We’ve got to hold on, ready or not. You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got. And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby, it helps to think we’re sleeping underneath the same big sky. Don’t stop believin’.

Day Twelve: I was tired of my lady; we’d been together too long. I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better.

Brittany K. Fonte is the author of four books and co-editor of a Lambda Literary Finalist in Poetry Anthology. She and her writing partner, Aviva Dove-Viebahn, have written two screenplays together–including one romantic comedy in production now– and several teleplays. In addition, Brittany teaches Fiction Writing in the MFA in Creative Writing program at Concordia University, St. Paul. She is a Gen X’er who is tired of quarantine.

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