Thursday, September 10, 2020

fall feels like a cliff

There's no smell to it here. No leaves burning. No back to school sweaters or shoes. The stench of cinnamon brooms in the foyers of all the grocery stores isn't cutting it. I haven't yet dipped a toe in the pumpkin spice river. Anticipation for the coming holidays seems inappropriate. I even missed smelling the moonflowers blooming on the deck last night. It was the first time I've had a full night's sleep in a week. I'll try again tonight.

I'm making stuff mindlessly. There will be regrets. There will be a lot of dyed thread and cloth too.



I'm supposed to writing. The best I could do is come up with a fresh look at an old short story, A Taste of Justice. Please feel free to comment there.

Justice seems to be so out of reach these days that I spend way too much time entertaining really ugly thoughts about getting it by myself. 

He knew and he didn't act. He lied, his fools bought into his bullshit, and there will be over two hundred thousand dead by the end of the year. 

All I can think about are the thousands of people walking around with the never-ending nightmare of having watched and listened to a loved one die alone in an ICU, a phone or tablet held by a PPE swathed nurse their only connection. I would not have survived that.

My sorrow and fury turn, in a flash, to a wave of anger that I'm sure will lead to cancer if I keep letting it roll. The minutes tick by and I check the news praying that someone close to him will pump his jacket full of lighter fluid and strike a match. Stab a fork deep into his eye. Shove him into a jet engine. The list goes on. 

But the real horror? The people who think he's what our country needs. Those fucking boat paraders,  bikers of Sturgis, and all the shadowy scumbags of Washington frantically checking their net worth. Knowing how many of them there are makes it seem like he's what our country deserves. 

Will they ever have the courage to ask themselves "why" five times and give completely honest answers each time. Can they face their truth? Their fears. Then what? For them, for our country. 

I've taken a few slow drives through my neighborhood. There are no political signs of any color out on the lawns. In this red state, I'm taking some heart that the Blues are keeping their cards close to the vest and some of the Reds might be starting to realize how deeply they've been played by this terrible, self-serving con man and everyone who supports him.


As soon as I can get some decent pictures, Blue Wave will be raffled off. ALL proceeds divided between BIDEN/HARRIS and the BLUE campaigns here in Georgia. Details in a few days when I figure it out.









4 comments:

Ms. said...

Your anger may be curative of our shared despair that such a being has been given/and or stolen the power to do damage. It can not last. It will not last. Here, I rest firmly on Impermanence and the basis of all Buddhist thought. Kindness is the antidote for the poisons that come from our rage. One act of kindness is more potent than radiation. I love you and hope the blue wave will soon help fund the good fight we are now waging.

Liz A said...

I saw a great meme ... a Biden/Harris sign with a note tacked on to the effect that stealing the sign would result in a donations to the campaign and to a right-to-choose organization "so if you steal my sign, you'll be supporting the very organizations you wish to silence"

if only it was that easy ... I woke in the middle of the night to the very real nightmare that is our upcoming election process

Dana said...

Thanks for your words, Deb. Me too.

Nancy said...

Over here as well Deb. Hard days.

Passing

  One moment we are here, the next we are where? Snipped from this life, I like to think, to the place and in the company of our heart's...

Play it again Sam.