every single day. the insanity, the chaos – it is all exhausting.
there is nothing beautiful about the goings-on in this america-the-beautiful as it is led by cruelty and bigotry beyond belief. we are inside their sickness, a violent extremism that is gutting the heart of this democracy.
it makes me lean on a card i have in my studio. i received it from a dear friend in 2012, shortly after my sweet poppo died. i’ve quoted it before, but it certainly bears repeating. it reads:
“life is slippery. here, take my hand.” (h. jackson browne, jr. )
now, it seems, is a good time to take one another’s hand.
it goes by fast on the train – almost a blur, but not quite.
“you are beautiful,” painted on the side of an old building.
in the middle of all the ugly going on right now, it is a good reminder: not to lose – or forget about – our own value, our own light, our own beauty.
somehow the most basic gets distorted in the chaos. somehow we put our joy to the side, we drop our view from the kaleidoscope of exquisite, we forget that this one and only moment is ours and we are here for it.
we pass a certain house on our way to a favorite hiking trail. it is clearly a hoarding house. there is stuff everywhere and if the garage door is open – even just a bit – you can see that the hoarding continues in the garage – piles and piles of things and things and things. it’s creepy. and you can feel it as you pass by. you feel the suffocating feeling of too-much-stuff.
i once knew someone who was a hoarder. he was unable to transcend it and so his house had tiny pathways to move from one room to another. all the rest of the space was filled with books and magazines and newspapers. there were piles on every step leading to the second floor – so much so that there was no way – anymore – to get there. the second floor was essentially blocked off forever – or, at least, until someone might clean it all out. i found it disturbing to be at his house, smothered by high piles on every side of me and no place that was even near empty or calm or welcoming a sit-down. it only took one visit to convince me that i would never return. i could not breathe. there was no space.
in both of these cases – and in a farm out in the county that we’ve visited with a variation on the same theme – we were privy to – inside – a sickness of the person whose home was emitting hoarding frequencies.
THIS is how i feel about this country now. we are walking – all of us – inside the administration’s sickness. there are few places to breathe, few ways to sit down outside of the enveloping dismal cloud of narcissism and revenge and selfish cruelty. there is little calm; instead, chaos reigns.
is this what authoritarianism feels like? is this what an autocracy feels like? is this what fascism feels like?
they are hoarding away our country, with little access to its democracy, its freedoms, its decency, its humanity.
we need the junkman to come and clean it all out – toting enough dumpsters for all their project agenda – a nation-sized mr.clean to wipe it all down, trash the filthy intentions, clear a path with space and air and possibility.
we need recognize this for what it is – truly – and we need to transcend the sickness. or breathing will become impossible.
it is hard for me to avoid. i simply cannot help it. or maybe i just can’t resist the impulse.
we play rummikub every monday and thursday with 20 after we share dinner together. and – every single time – something one of them – d or 20 – says, makes me break into song.
we were talking about the obvious – you know – the state of our country. it was in an unusual fit of optimism. it was right after we talked about bernie sanders and aoc and the pushback of intellectually woke people against authoritarianism etc etc etc (i know you hear that line now – from the king and i – uh-huh, uh-huh – etc etc etc).
it had been a week since we had seen 20 (which is also unusual) and much had happened – on both sides – so there was a lot to talk about.
in that week we had found a different trail. it wound its way through a rural landscape and we enjoyed its newness. and then there was this tree. one sturdy old gnarly oak in the forefront of a blank field. stunning. perhaps a hundred years old. perhaps more. its silhouette against the sky so intense, strikingly gnarly in a good way.
we have such an appreciation for these lands of space through which we hike. we have hiked out east, down south, out west, up north. we’ve hiked in county parks, state parks, national parks. we dream of thru-hiking one day on one of the national trails. we hold these places in high regard, grateful for the glorious beauty, the potential for peacefulness, the celebration of the wild.
and so our conversation of late and of that night – of course – is also about the threat to these places (in addition to all the other gnarly-extremely-twisted corrupt threats of the administration too long to list or even grok in any conscience-based way.) we talked about our new forest preserve hike and we talked about national parks. and it feels sickening inside to think of the decimation of any of this. and all for the wealth of the wealthiest.
in the middle of our rummikub game – me…stuck with gnarly chips – a double of black 13s and a double of 1s and the grasp of the plastic trophy seeming bleak – and in the middle of the accompanying punctuations of news-chaos-of-the-day conversation – it suddenly came to mind, rose to the top.
the song ooh child was written about times of strife.
i started singing.
and hoping.
that some day we – this broken country – will put it together and get it undone. and then we’ll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun – when the world is much brighter.
they rolled their eyes, poking fun at the records spinning in my brain. and, for a few minutes, we all laughed.
tens of thousands of people are attending their rallies. for good reason. bernie and aoc are speaking to the heart of america. they are the shining light – that glimmer you can see through the gap in the inosculated trees. their message to hard-working middle class america is balm for people exhausted-by-the-twisted-depraved-bullshit-warp-of-oligarchy, people like us.
we sat in the adirondack chairs in waning sun and listened to bernie sanders as he spoke. his words were – to me – like the sound of birds early in the sunrise or the wind chimes out back in a gentle breeze. direct to our hearts, we found ourselves hopeful, perhaps for no other reason than they “got it”. there is another way; there is sense instead of chaos.
it was like stepping outside the sickness foisted upon this country.
we are merely two days away from the possibility of an intensely corrupt chess move from the current just-itching-to-be-dictator administration – deliberately planned, contrived and soon-to-be-executed. the number of people involved in or supporting this evil is overwhelming. up close now, it makes me simultaneously nauseous and breathless.
i stood on the trail, gazing through the space in the trees – trying to see clearly. i attempted to get my camera to focus on what was beyond instead of rough tree bark, a different depth of field. it couldn’t. i could see light and color in the slit, but it was blurry, overtaken by the trees in the forefront.
but there’s something else out there, something better, something beyond what’s on deck now.
we need to focus on that, and diligently seek out that hope, that color, that light.
because every day brings another round of chaos, we will dedicate this week’s smack-dab to the insanity of tariffs. because our country definitely needs more corruption at this point. because our country needs to be isolationist, self-serving, narcissistic, powermongering. because our country needs the rich to be richer and the poor to be much, much poorer. because this administration is extorting the hell out of anyone and everyone – and getting away with it. because this is a time of gross incompetence and evil.
because we – personally – have so many things of value – big value, big-big-value-you’d-be-amazed-at-how-much-value – it occurs to me that if everything will cost significantly more, than – following the thread of insanity – everything we already have is worth significantly more. voila!
so let’s do a little inventory. because these tariffs “aren’t supposed to affect us” mere mortals. let’s twist that a bit (because twisting things seems to be in vogue). let’s apply these taaaariffs to the stuff we already have – so we can inflate our own [perceived] value in this time of warped economic instability. the ridiculous begets more ridiculous.
take our vehicles, starting with our brand-newest.
that makes littlebabyscion’s 2006-280,000 miles value rise a dramatic 25% based on the announced auto tariff. or – it makes littlebabyscion’s value rise 24% – if you base it on the fact that it is a japanese automobile, a toyota. either way, the real news is – drumroll – that any percentage of zero is zero.
well, that should be enough examples.
because it seems like this administration wishes to poor-us-down (in addition to dumb-us-down and bigot-us-up and extort-us-all) we will just sit here and hold onto LBS. a 25% tariff on new automobiles makes a new automobile for us – mere mortals – absolutely impossible. especially when we don’t know what we don’t know – about the coming days of healthcare and medicare and social security and student loans and interest rates and banking security and the price of a can of diced tomatoes or black beans. not to mention the fallout of ignoring climate change and spreading disease and decreasing water supply and the annihilation of civil rights.
it’s exhausting. i wonder if these people stay up at night trying to think up all the cruelest things they can do to us – the populace – the mere mortals – as well as everyone else – around the world – sans those in their chaos-club. but i know better. all this was pre-written in the project playbook and those in the bully–club are just gleefully following the plays.
if thinking this is all ok is what it takes to be in that club – or on the red bandwagon – or in the unforgivable cheering squad on the sidelines – then i’m glad i’m not in the club.
it’s empty of heart, void of soul and full of sadistic insanity.
our sansevieria is called “a perfect houseplant“. it doesn’t require much tending, much light, much water. it is hardy and healthy and has grown immensely since we brought it home, filling the window nook.
it makes me think of my sweet momma, since she is the one who first introduced me to sansevieria – the snake plant. she had several and called them by their scientific name.
our sansevieria seems unconcerned that it is referred to as an “old school succulent“. and, according to the miraclegro website, they are “almost comically easy to grow, so chances are you’ll encounter few problems with them.”
the other day d and i were talking about trends. neither of us is particularly trendy nor aware of the trending trends. we reminisced about growing up with parents who also weren’t trendy and didn’t try to keep up with pop culture. we wondered about whether that was a detriment but decided that it was likely helpful since staying on trend requires a financial investment and real-life artists are generally not in that sort of position.
i’m thinking that we are both sansevieria.
perhaps we all need to be succulent sansevieria. easy to care for, ruthlessly growing despite all odds. we need to be hardy and healthy, comically easy. maybe that will give us the strength we need to prevail through all the chaos and uncertainty we are experiencing.
the one thing that we don’t have in common with our snake plant? the part that reads “chances are you’ll encounter few problems with them.”
it’s our job as artists – and, let’s face it, as humans – to push back on cruelty, on injustice, on betrayal, on marginalization, on stupidity. so…you may encounter a few problems.
yeah, we’re mostly sansevieria. but definitely watch for a few prickly cactus spines thrown in for self-preservation and for the protection of others.
we were not the only ones to end the week with an entire bag of cape cod chips and a bottle of wine. it’s somehow reassuring to know we were not alone.
i know exhaustion is dangerous. it’s also the truth. one cannot help but be bone-and-heart-weary in the wake of the scripted chaos that has been this very week in american history.
and then i wonder what THEY see happening….those who intentionally voted for this wreaking-of-havoc.
yesterday we watched a jordan klepper video where he interviewed the new administration’s supporters outside at the national mall in dc, people who had expected to actually view the inauguration in real life. he showed photographs of the insurrection to these diehards and asked if they agreed with the pardons that these insurrectionists had just received. they did – they agreed – these same people who were thrilled – giddy, even – to hear that the garbage truck their redeemer sat in was literally in town. priorities and perspective – and the rule of law – are – apparently – not a real thing here.
but there was one man who jordan interviewed who stated that he had not seen the images he was being shown – images of cruel and absolute violence at the capitol. when pressed about that, he responded that he guessed that the media he watched had not shown those images. when asked if he watched the January 6 hearings, he replied no and then – drumroll, please – he said these words, “that’s on me.”
and so – for those people who are merely foxing it through life – with side jaunts to their facebook flat-friends – i wonder what you are seeing. because it sure doesn’t seem like you are seeing the sh*t that is really happening.
and – because you didn’t take the time to read anything about the agenda of project 2025 or fact-check the clearly-twisted “clean-slate” of your new president or even bother to check in with any sense of moral compass in your own heart (or do you really feel this much hatred??!!!) – you have contributed to the demolition of decency that has already taken place, you are complicit in all that is to come, you have installed a cadre of authoritarianism that the generation before us fought valiantly against.
i don’t know how much i noticed the rock garden next to the chalet shed in the backyard of my growing-up house. i know it was there. there were plants peeking out from in-between the rocks and the garden-pile grew through the years as my momma – with a love of rocks and stone – added to it.
the cairns and vessel-collections in our house echo that garden and its solid base for my own love of rocks and stone and pebbles. though i believe i will remember where each individual rock originates, where i picked it up, what it means to me or what moment it represents, reality is that i forget. with a few exceptions, i simply know that they are important. they were part of something i wanted to hold onto. and they became part of the rock garden of my life. they all count.
the rockway of the shoin house of the chicago botanic garden is deliberate. carefully placed stones, “bones of the earth” form a pathway through the fragile mosses of deep green. we stood, gazing down, both of us – i’m pretty sure – lost in thought about how we could incorporate such a walkway in our own backyard. orderly and stunning and functional, protecting all around it.
we spent a couple hours in the basement last night. i heard them from a distance first; the tornado sirens were going off. then, closer. i am storm-nervous. the derecho back a decade has gifted me with long-term storm ptsd and i’m not sure if there is much i can do to alleviate it. so when the weather forecast offers “tornado watch” i get ready.
we created a go-bag during the riots in our city a couple years back. it was recommended. i also keep an empty backpack nearby for computers and cords. there’s a leash in the go-bag and we have a duffel with a few clothes. i didn’t unpack all this after those devastating riots. instead, we realized the wisdom of having important stuff nearby, things you can grab in an emergency. and so, i had this all lined up – like a good rockwalk – on the couch in the sitting room off our bedroom, waiting. d picked up the dog (who doesn’t do steps for some strange aussie reason) and i grabbed the bags and water and some dog treats.
when you think about tornadoes as you sit in the basement listening, you realize that you can only create so much order…you can only try to design a walkway…you can only make plans. sitting in two rocking chairs in d’s studio, surrounded by the bins i am emptying and clearing down there, a couple dehumidifiers turned off so we could hear, with our backpacks and duffel bag, it all comes down to, well, not much. chaos happens and we find ourselves in it, stepping, trying to find our way on the rockwalk, to the other side, the next sunrise.
we waited for the sirens to stop and for the weather app to show that the worst of it had passed over us. david carried dogga back up and he got another sleepynightnight cookie. the bags went back on the couch, lined up, things to put away in the morning.
i wanted pancakes but it was too late and we were too tired.
i passed by these words: “try being informed instead of just opinionated.” i laughed and then frowned, thinking it was a great mantra for these times. it doesn’t even need any additional blah-blah. it simply can stand on its own, shining a spotlight on, well, most of us at some point or another.
i was recently reading some writings of noam chomsky, a linguist and philosopher and so much more. he is “widely recognized as having helped to spark the cognitive revolution in the human sciences”. his work is interesting and profoundly thought-provoking. and, he is one of those scholars who have quotes galore attributed to him, smidges of wisdom, tomes prompting controversy, questions that parry ignorance.
“the general population doesn’t know what’s happening and it doesn’t even know that it doesn’t know” is one of these quotes. bracing.
any scroll through news media apps in these times is pretty scary. intense drought, raging wildfires, ferocious storms erupting, melting glaciers and rising oceans, a global pandemic morphing and morphing again but not going away, the rise of authoritarianism in the global world, the attack on democracy and fundamental truths, the support of lies and personal agenda by people in trusted positions, the new climate change report issued by the united nations…the doomsday list seems endless.
we stumbled into a short documentary the other evening about doomsday bunkers. people in south dakota and texas purchasing $35k bunkers and tricking them out into homes in which they live, preparing, prepared. it was kind of daunting to see – these underground homes with pantry rooms full of canned goods, homes with no windows, homes that are more-or-less safe – or at least removed – from all that goes on above ground. i expected to see wily extremists but that wasn’t the case in the short we viewed. these were people who wanted to be ready to go on if all else failed – leaving “all else” to your imagination, easily fed by the horrors we read and watch in the news. i personally cannot imagine living this way. though the bunkers are in a community, the premise is removing yourself from the rest of the world and i wonder what is left of value then. a little more googling and other bunkers emerge – bunkers for the super rich, bunkers that are more extreme. what is really going on here? the things we don’t know.
i used to teach in the state of florida, though i have not lived there now for over thirty years. in the mixed miracle of social media, some of my previous students are friends of mine on facebook and i am delighted to see them in their lives as adults. i am horrified to watch the governor of that state remove protections for the children attending school there, not to mention teachers and administrators and other valued employees of school systems. barring mask mandates, downplaying vaccinations, issuing warnings to remove funding, threatening the withholding of salaries – all power ploys for his own sick agenda, which clearly is not to protect or encourage protecting the residents of his state, his constituents. i don’t understand this. and yet, his actions are mostly undeterred and it is only now that there are some superintendents pushing back, placing lives over one man’s warped authority. i wonder why every parent in the state isn’t lined up, pushing back. had my children been little while we lived there, i would have been appalled by the cavalier attitude about their health and well-being. they – and every single other child in that state – are not expendable. what is really going on here? the things we don’t know.
we’ve all heard the expression “ignorance is bliss.” is it really? is not-knowing the best way to go about living? is getting all hooked-lined-and-sinkered into opinion-land responsible? is watching the circus networks opine and distill truth and hatch conspiracy communal? is it ok to not know what’s really happening and not know that you don’t know? is it prudent – without asking questions – to fetch every bone thrown igniting rhetoric, encouraging vitriol, spewing hate, forwarding inequality, ignoring climate peril, wreaking chaos? even dogdog can discern firestarter sticks from real branches.
reverse threading 