refuge

 
Everyone who was sick has bounced back. I'm fine, but

it was a fraught weekend for many people and there's little relief in sight. If anyone is interested, email me.  I have an action plan.

 This afternoon, it's going to be near 70 and I will be outside getting my vitamin D and calling elected representative who need to be shitting their pants over the level of fury and anxiety their constituents are experiencing.

For those of you whose income hinges on the stock market, I'm sorry, but I'm worrying about whether or not I'll be able to pay my mortgage if musk decides that I don't deserve the money that I contributed to Social Security since 1968.

As an aside, I despise the word deserve. It hinges on someone's estimation of another's worth. 

I also have been spending too much time imagining the kind of punishment I'd like to wreak on those who have put us in fear and anger. I revisited a passage from Prophets Tango and found it to be unsatisfying. Like Anna said, "It wasn't fair. His lack of suffering."

I wasn't raised in any physical violence aside from a rare passing swat with a spaghetti sauce-covered wooden spoon. There was a fair amount of emotional violence until I learned what that was worth. Now I daydream of swinging a cutlass. One in each hand.

I'm seriously considering getting chickens as soon as I can get a proper coop built and I won't be making pets of them. I like chicken and chicken shit is very good for the dirt. 

Potatoes are easy too. 

For the morning I'm going to just breathe, remember how to fly, and spend time with some untroubled beings.