Entry No. 4,812
I hit a new post-election low point last night, and I posted this to Facebook:
I think that tonight I am at the lowest point I've been since election night. I cannot imagine a way forward. I'm more than half a century old, and never in my life has our country faced such a crisis. Ignorance, stupidity, prejudice, fear, greed, selfishness, and cynicism have won out. The lessons of the American Civil War, two world wars, the Holocaust, the Cold War, and the American Civil Rights Movement have been forgotten. We've allowed a grotesque billionaire clown to seize the highest office in the free world, and he's building an administration of monstrosities. This is not business as usual. This is not Nixon, Reagan, George Bush, or W. Bush. This is not normal. Across Europe and America, populism and fascism are again on the rise - and winning. And the truth is I don't have hope. This is so much bigger than so many seem to comprehend. Tonight, I am only afraid and exhausted and horrified.
And many people said many kind things. And I am truly grateful for that kindness. It makes me want to see more hope than I do, and fuck knows I need to see more hope. But, to paraphrase Anne Sexton and to directly quote my Grandfather Ramey, needing ain't getting. I do not feel better today. I'm tired, I can't sleep, I'm very not well, and I've been struggling with writer's block for over a year. And now Trump, and all my personal problems pale into insignificance by comparison. What the fuck does it matter that I can't get a novel written when Russia has helped a Bananarepublican despot seize control of the American presidency? What does it matter that my addiction has been getting the best of me for four years? What the fuck does it matter that I'm all but crippled by bipolar disorder and OCD and by schizophreniform blah blah blah psychobabble bullshit and by homesickness for a place that doesn't ever want me to come home, or that I can no longer stand up very long, even with my cane? That I cannot imagine making it through another New England winter? And so on. These are rhetorical questions. At least, to me they are.
But thank you. Thank you all.
Maybe I should thank Trump for murdering the last vestiges of my self pity.
It feels a like a coup, but the way Uber feels like a cab company. Neither is either, legally. ~ William Gibson, on Trump's election (via Twitter, today)
Today, it's 47˚F and overcast again. As the Police said, "That's my soul up there."
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
I think that tonight I am at the lowest point I've been since election night. I cannot imagine a way forward. I'm more than half a century old, and never in my life has our country faced such a crisis. Ignorance, stupidity, prejudice, fear, greed, selfishness, and cynicism have won out. The lessons of the American Civil War, two world wars, the Holocaust, the Cold War, and the American Civil Rights Movement have been forgotten. We've allowed a grotesque billionaire clown to seize the highest office in the free world, and he's building an administration of monstrosities. This is not business as usual. This is not Nixon, Reagan, George Bush, or W. Bush. This is not normal. Across Europe and America, populism and fascism are again on the rise - and winning. And the truth is I don't have hope. This is so much bigger than so many seem to comprehend. Tonight, I am only afraid and exhausted and horrified.
And many people said many kind things. And I am truly grateful for that kindness. It makes me want to see more hope than I do, and fuck knows I need to see more hope. But, to paraphrase Anne Sexton and to directly quote my Grandfather Ramey, needing ain't getting. I do not feel better today. I'm tired, I can't sleep, I'm very not well, and I've been struggling with writer's block for over a year. And now Trump, and all my personal problems pale into insignificance by comparison. What the fuck does it matter that I can't get a novel written when Russia has helped a Bananarepublican despot seize control of the American presidency? What does it matter that my addiction has been getting the best of me for four years? What the fuck does it matter that I'm all but crippled by bipolar disorder and OCD and by schizophreniform blah blah blah psychobabble bullshit and by homesickness for a place that doesn't ever want me to come home, or that I can no longer stand up very long, even with my cane? That I cannot imagine making it through another New England winter? And so on. These are rhetorical questions. At least, to me they are.
But thank you. Thank you all.
Maybe I should thank Trump for murdering the last vestiges of my self pity.
It feels a like a coup, but the way Uber feels like a cab company. Neither is either, legally. ~ William Gibson, on Trump's election (via Twitter, today)
Today, it's 47˚F and overcast again. As the Police said, "That's my soul up there."
TTFN,
Aunt Beast