Weekly Diary: Chris Maggio

Week of May 3, 2020

Week of April 26, 2020

Throughout quarantine, the sound of constant ambulance sirens has become unfortunately commonplace in New York. However it’s only been during the past month or so that a second sound has joined the city’s daily cacophony in a kind of morbid harmony. I’m talking about the the jovial jingle of the ice cream man. 

The ice cream man* is never out this early in the season, but with customers trapped at home, he’s become quite the opportunist.

And why shouldn’t he be?? An ice cream truck operation is so uniquely equipped for these times. Sure—we have our share of “food trucks,” but they always stay firmly parked in place to serve their patrons. You never hear a truck ringing its bell and honking its horn to get people to come outside to buy tacos, burgers, or sweet potato fries at the end of their driveway. Savory flavors usually stay put, while sweets are always on the move.

Hell, in quarantined New York, the ice cream truck is an untapped resource! We should be pumping money into this industry right now. Let’s stock the trucks with everything you would find at a bodega: Coronavirus essentials like gloves, masks, and cheap toilet paper. Cartons of milk, beer, and cheap soap. Put in a hot table with plantains and pinto beans that slush around in their trays as the driver dodges potholes. You could buy a loosie if you want, or even a little bit of gasoline to top off your tank.

Let’s make them essential workers that are paid a king’s ransom (and then force the city to follow suit with cashiers, deliverymen, and medical staff).

Ice cream personnel are men and women who are tough, they’ve braved the front lines of our city’s beaches and parks—navigating the clamoring hands of children and adults alike. If we can trust them during summertime, then we can most certainly trust them during times of crisis.

—

*Much like “dude” has become somewhat of a gender-neutral term, I believe in using the term “ice cream man” to describe both men and women who serve in the line of dairy-delivery duty.

Week of April 12, 2020

Days in quarantine have you feeling all sorts of contradictions.

The days are long without anything to do, yet it feels like time passes more quickly than ever. I wake up in the morning, and the first thing I think about is what movie I’m going to watch that evening.

It’s the same routine every night: have one drink, watch one movie, sleep seven hours. The next morning, I read the IMDB trivia for whatever movie I watched the previous night:

I didn’t know that before.

The world also feels tremendous and minuscule at the same time. Reading the news, I’m skipping through the effects of the Virus on every continent of the globe, but once I’m done reading, my world is just my damn house. 

I definitely need to get outside. I’d hang out with any ten people in the City right now if I was allowed to. The only ten things I see every day are my fingers and my toes.

Your thought process becomes far too granular when you’re in the same setting every day. You notice all the individual dust bunnies in the hallway. I hate how they congregate in this one corner by my shoes, no matter how many times I Swiffer them. Where do they come from and what are they really made of? Thread? Hair? Debris?

Lunchtime. I’m eating a stalk of celery dipped in chunky peanut butter and wondering: do they grind the peanut butter up partially so it’s chunky like that? Or do they fully grind it until it’s smooth and then mix the chunky parts back in?

No one knows.

I’m patient, I can wait until the time is right for the City to be back up and running. I don’t think we’ll ever end up having that perfect moment…but even a broken clock is right twice a day. 

We’ll take it one step at a time.

In the meanwhile, I’ll be here figuring out creative ways to pass the hours.

Week of April 5, 2020

This week was the first time that I started getting quarantine-themed sponsored content on my phone. I don't know what took so long. To be honest, it was one of the first things that I thought of once we were told to stay indoors: "What is the world of advertising going to look like in this, the time of Corona?"

I assumed there would be a brief grace period. Maybe a week. "Too soon!" we'd all yell at our screens as we scrolled past a Domino's ad touting "contactless delivery" (as if we'd all had such a connection with the Domino's drivers of old).

But three weeks in? I appreciate the restraint. Maybe I just wasn't saying the right things in proximity to my phone. Maybe my level of panic wasn't audible enough.

And now the floodgates are open. I watched a little TV the other night and there was a Nissan commercial acknowledging the new "challenges" we're facing. They say they can drop a brand new car off at your house so you don't have to go to the dealership and get it. How crass—we've all lost our jobs and now we're gonna buy a car? How does the salesman get back to the dealership? "Hop in, I'll give you a lift back."

Does he take a bus?

The only comfort food in my media diet is in the New York Post and the New York Daily News. Somehow their usual level of headline hyperbole finally feels appropriate. Every other news outlet is partisan on the sly... At least they're both honest about it. They don't mince words: We're in a whole lot of trouble from both sides of the aisle, and it's time for us all to clean up our act.

Chris Maggio is a photographer living in New York City with 8.6 million of his closest friends.