Hello again. It is a depressing week here in the Un-united states. Ignorance still reigns. With the Supreme Court’s decision to gut the Right to Vote acts that were established sooooo many years ago, and the march across the famous protest bridge in Selma yesterday, I was reminded of how I wanted to march in Selma all those years ago. I assumed that I would be safe because I had white privilege, but that misconception and my mother’s firm stand against my going, I stayed home and watched appalled. Then when it was over and voting rights firmly established, I thought it was finally settled. But no, we are still the most racist modern country. Still easily frightened by the different, and still easily cowed by blustering blowhards given a daily platform to spew their venom. I would move if I could just to avoid what is coming. There are days when it seems I am caught between hatred and despair.
I visited my dermatologist this week for my semiannual check up. He still has the expensive Trump coffee table books strewn around his waiting room. He asked how I was and I told him I wished I had left the country earlier. His comment was, “See you in six months, and I hope you are feeling better.”
Please continue to boycott this country. And keep the influences of BS and billionaires out of your own. We are the roadmap for self destruction of democracy.
This is what I see when I leave my hair dresser’s. Tall, tall trees with lots of kudzu.
And just down the road to the right is a Mexican/Italian restaurant with margaritas and a very good white veggie pizza.
In my own yard I am watching birds. This mockingbird has decided to come often but only sings when in the top branches of tall trees.
I like their big feet and long twitchy tail. Then one of the many song sparrows came here to collect for his/her nest. So well camouflaged!
I watch birds and draw in my sketchbooks. Here is the latest couple of pages with the new maple tree I bought for the yard.
I need to get back to my book with letters as the focus. In the second letter where the woman is leaving her husband for all the bullet pointed reasons, she returns from the car to scrawl “FUCK YOU” on a post-a-note. Some messages need the order and disconnection of an email-type font, and others demand the hand-formed letters of emphasis. The husband has just passed up taking out his cold beer to read what she had to say. I am going to enjoy writing her reasons for being long gone.
Next maybe a child’s letter to a favorite teacher. It will have drawings that need to be there…because what else would a child do with all those margins of blank space.
It is a lovely day today. Sunny and near 80. Maybe I will get onto that fabric that needs over-dying. I might even toss it over a bamboo fence out back to let it dry. Why not? Maybe a complaint will come my way, maybe not. I am not in the mood to care that much.
Better go and heat my tea in an rust filled pot.
Til later….