This morning at first light, New York felt very like a manufactured backdrop for one of those emotionally numbing scenes out of Westworld.

A pervading sense of underlying unrest coming at you through a slow motion lens lifted perhaps from the melancholic imagination of my childhood storytelling hero, Rod Sterling.

It feels all that dramatic as when NY is silent and still, it is either a sense of rare beauty like after a blizzard, or just unnerving and odd as it is today.

I am gratefully prepared for what’s coming with supplies, cat treats, wine, and a makeshift gym in the corner of the bedroom, as I had a heads up weeks ago as I  work with people from Asia and Europe on Zoom often, and the reality of it on their faces was self-evident.

But in the last few days as I tightened self-isolation ahead of the mandate, spent a lot of time DMing with friends to get a pulse on their sanity and preparedness, it finally felt real.

Especially with yesterday’s poignant goodbye note from my friend Pascaline LePeltier, a partner at my local spot Racines that hit me with a deep sense of personal ennui.

She described the last supper of the team when usually they prepare for the evening guests, fold napkings, taste food and wine. A joyous time in the hospitality world played out in unison everywhere in every restaurant pre opening.

But yesterday it was truly The Last Supper, as everyone was being laid off and saying goodbye as they closed today.

Racines was my special spot, my Cheers, where I got hugged each time I stopped by, with my own reserved stool at the end of the bar. I’d been hanging there from before they were opened, lived through their trials and rejoiced after 3 years as they found their truly perfect poise of personality and unique version of their place in the community.

Gone now. Not at all bitter sweet, just very personally bitter.

Here’s the thing.

Everyone everywhere is living their own version of this story. While there’s solace in that building sense of community, I am letting myself wallow around the deep sense of loss this morning as I watch the surreal reality of this city I so love, literally close down.

There is humor and connection of course.

Texting and Zooming with friends realizing that whether they are an hour by train in Washington Heights or Park Slope or down the street, distance is flattened as it doesn’t matter. 100 yards, 4 miles is irrelevant if you are locked in.

Sharing banal life tips like that Whole Foods delivery restocks every morning at 6am and had gluten free Matzo, raw goat cheese, and organic chunky peanut butter this morning.

Tech readiness and the nature of this viral threat make it so different from our experience of 9/11. That was isolated, local, short lived, before the social web and blogging, and this one…well who the hell knows.

We are all in a conundrum of course.

Feeling the lack of governmental leadership but realizing that only they have the purse strings to make this workable. We will all head to our communities online to kvetch and console and support, but this will get fixed by science and the health care delivery system first, and requires capital beyond anyone or all of ours collective capability.

As well, it is clear that until there is a vaccine, the financial markets are simply going to stay crashed as even with a cash infusion, we have had a cultural societal shift, and until the health crisis is fixed, the markets will stay somewhat unhinged.

While I’ve been easing into this self-isolation, it’s only been a week since I stopped going to gyms, to stores—to anywhere there is a crowd.

And suddenly we are into this need for quarantine where it is unsafe, irresponsible to do much of anything but stay home. Go out before dawn to walk and that’s it.

Today’s world is in a time-lapsed waking dream that I’m letting myself explore for a while as after all, there is time.

As I know it will indeed pass and I’ll ride it out. Being one of the truly lucky and privileged ones, hunkered down with food and wine, and my wacky and wonderful Samthecat who has decided that I should never leave the apartment and is always on my lap, on the desk, following me around.

Lucky also that I have my family at hand, a network of people to kvetch with on demand and some truly interesting collaborative projects that create a pace for my days.

It’s easy to see where the pain of this will hit first for people and our culture.

How Twitter for all its crud is an essential part of our lives now for information.

The multitude of opportunities for creating new things of value that will make a difference and touch a new nerve in our populations post pandemic.

What is clear is that the other side of this could be quite different, so sci-fi in its possibilities, so raw that I for one have only a  gut feel at this point.

It will make 9/11 and its entrepreneurial aftermath seem like a minor change agent.

So—

I’ll be writing often for myself, for work, for this community.

Be well and healthy please.

Take care of your own and your communities as best you can.

Most of us are going to be just fine and our resilience will find a way to make this a positive, as we always do.

I already feel more energetic and inspired just writing this post.

Think I’ll do something completely irrelevant and personally satisfying like write a bit about my personal journey discovering natural wine and why it has stuck with me for so long.

I’m here for you if I can help.

At the very least I will listen.