Normally, Taylor Mac’s days would follow a series of familiar scripts. Mac has a number of projects in the works, after all: a musical theater piece about Socrates called “The Hang,” as well as an eerily timely play called “Joy and Pandemic,” which is set before the outbreak of the 1918 flu pandemic.

The playwright and performance artist, who prefers the pronoun “judy,” as in Garland, has been social distancing in the Berkshires, still writing while also supporting his Trickle Up initiative for artists impacted by the Covid-19 outbreak. Like so many people, Mac’s taken up new routines, too, like playing the banjo and video chatting with friends over Zoom.

The thing is, the days and weeks have started to run together. “It’s Blursday, in the month of Macramé,” Mac said.

Mac tracked his cultural diary for a week while in isolation in April, which included listening to the new Fiona Apple album and watching James Bond movies on VHS. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

Most Mornings:

I wake up around 7 a.m. and I have breakfast and make everybody coffee, and I hang out. I always read The New York Times. I skip anything telling me what might happen, I just find those articles extremely annoying. The entire news has been taken over by what might happen, so I just scan the paper, and if something seems like it’s telling me what has happened, or what is happening, then I’ll read it.

Then I try to write for two hours. I’ve got a couple of projects I’m working on. A big kind of musical — I can’t say anything about it yet. And then my new piece that I’d better get up to the Here Arts Center.

I have all these projects that I just try to chisel away at every day, which is kind of my pattern, normally. But then, I get up [for] about two hours, and then I do administrative work. When I started doing Trickle Up — I guess the best thing to call it is a network, it’s an online streaming platform that you can subscribe to. I had that idea to make it so that we could raise money for people who lost all their gigs. So far, we’ve raised $20,000 for everybody, so that’s pretty cool, and we just gave out our second $10,000 commission.

It’s moving to watch all the people respond in this moment, even if they don’t directly address the pandemic or being isolated, you still feel that subtext in everybody’s work. It’s like an educational tool because as a performing artist, to see everyone’s process, and then just for the emotional experience, watching the videos. It makes you feel more connected to everybody.

During the Day:

Like everybody else who’s in the world, I’ve been listening to Fiona Apple in the last couple of days. I also started getting into some old, obscure kind of funk disco, like B.T. Express. My friend Rachelle Garniez has a new album out, called “Gone to Glory.” I listen to her, and also John Prine because I’m cheesy that way. Whenever somebody dies, I always go out and listen to their music. But I will say that I listen to John Prine at least a few times a year, so it’s not like it’s some weird nostalgic thing. Oh, and then the other night, we got really into “Ellington at Newport,” 1956. That album and that crazy, unchained denouement [“Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue.”] It’s so good.

I’m lucky enough that I can go for walks — there are lots of woods. The only time we see people is when we go grocery shopping, and then you know. We Hazmat it up.

I didn’t bring any of my drag up with me, or my ukulele. That’s why I started practicing the banjo every day. But that has been fun, focusing on an instrument that has been in my peripheral vision for maybe a decade now.

Evenings:

My friend’s therapist said it would be a really good idea to just have a ritual. It sounds kind of cheesy, but it really helps you understand where you are. The only ritual we have that we share every single day is cocktail hour and movie night. We’ve got a movie night. I cook dinner, usually, and my husband does the dishes, and then we’ll watch a movie.

Yesterday was Monday. I remember. I made a cocktail. I’ve never seen a recipe for it, I made it by accident because we ran out of lime, but we had a cucumber. So, it was cucumber juice, St-Germain and gin. It’s just equal parts and it was so yummy. I’m calling it the St. Cupid. I’m sure it exists already in the world, but I’m calling it St. Cupid anyway.

We don’t have the internet, so I can’t stream anything; I just have cell service. But luckily, my husband is a movie buff, so we have hundreds of movies that are on VHS tapes and things like that, so we just watch old shows. It’s a sweet thing. Sometimes we like to read or talk, but that’s about it.

We watched “Bonnie and Clyde” last night, and what else did we watch? “Five Easy Pieces,” and we watched “La Dolce Vita,” and we got on a Merchant Ivory kick, so we watched “A Room with a View,” and “Maurice.” I think we’ve watched every Bond movie. We’ve been watching Almodóvar, a lot of Almodóvar. And then we also got into Horatio Hornblower. We were watching really bad Horatio Hornblower melodrama on the high seas. It’s fun. I like those ones because you can just shout at the TV and you have a good time. That’s what I find I have energy for, and mental state for, by the end of the day.

Before Bed:

I’m actually reading a book about the Spanish flu. It’s been really fascinating to read. My play is set in 1918, so I thought, “Oh, maybe I should read and find out some details about it.” It’s called “The Great Influenza” by John M. Barry.

Was It Thursday?

There was a Zoom dance party with all the people from “24 Decade” the other day. I think it was Thursday. People hopped on, and basically held their phones up and danced.