Are we all in a paradoxical sleep?

 

Dear Friends, 

"Monday, all my troubles seemed so far away..." 

It could be the lyrics of a famous song where we all wake up from a paradoxical sleep, in the same bed... 

Don't dream. For now, it's just paradoxical realness: 

Look at my friend Raffy, I don't have a friend named Raffy, I just made it up, she is a dancer in New York City. She lost most of her income, contracts, gigs, maybe her housing. She is without health insurance, trying desperately to enroll for unemployment, she's been humiliated by the application process for emergency grants but despite this, she is still throwing virtual parties and zoom celebrations. 

Paradoxical you would say? Not at all, just the way things are. 

Look now at my friend Jean-Paul, I don't have a friend named Jean Paul, I just made it up, he is a french musician: the President of France himself talked to him on TV, he got unemployment until August 2021, universal health care... But two days ago he wrote on this facebook: ARTISTS IN DANGER - CULTURE IS DEAD!!!!!!!!!!

Paradoxical you would say? Not at all, just the way things are.

Look at my friend Lucy, I don't have a friend named Lucy, I just made it up–but every day she hesitates for hours between chicken or beef for her dinner. But like a fart on a vinyl tablecloth*,  she can tell you how to solve all your problems.

Paradoxical you would say? Not at all, just the way things are.

Talking about food, a last one for the road: look at my lover Stephen–I really have a lover named Stephen. Yesterday for dinner, he had smoked ribs, Tennessee style barbecue sauce and mash potatoes. He said it was the best dinner he had lately despite all the marvelous and sophisticated french cooking I'm preparing every day at Lucien Chef Ambition. 

Paradoxical you would say? Not at all, just the way things are... 

...until we can change them! Just be patient. 


Coronarely yours,

Lucien Zayan
Director


*a marvelous old french expression "comme un pet sur une toile cirée" describing how fast things can go. The english version is "like shit through a goose." (thanks Stephen D. Morrison II)

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