But at least no one is throwing shoes at me. To the best of my recollection.
This epic episode has turned into an odd odyssey. A life passage moment, a kind of passing through a portal, a rebirth thing? Who know when you are in the middle of it. But a bit unusual for sure. And as usual, when things are unusual, the best thing to do is surrender and enjoy the ride. Embrace the bitter, then sit at it’s hoary feet and attempt to learn the lessons it has to teach, secure in the knowledge that these are real, meaningful, lessons. As real as the pain that accompanies them…and as real as the fact that if you don’t learn them this time….they will come back to teach you again.
People are winging wingtips at the wicked witch, the ruling class is openly planning the winter campaign of the class war, the expiration date on 1984 has still yet to pass, denial has become our 51st state, surpassing Palinland in size and the sheep still sleep peacefully in their burning beds. Surrealists and satirists are still out of jobs as the tattered flag of reality blows in the gale force of change, losing more of its once proudly undisputed threads with each passing nanosecond even as the handmaiden seamstresses of what passes for a media and our modern storytellers frantically attempt to weave a new one, unable to admit that they too are fucking clueless, lest they too join the ranks of the dispossessed and foreclosed, even as they are clamored to by a desperate but retreatingly interested populace now only wanly asking wtf.
Who am I to argue? I surrender. And kneel at the feet of the bitter, eating it’s dregs and listening to it’s story, which will at least, be honest. And in the midst of it all manage a wry and knowing smile looking back at the shaft of the spear that is my life even as I stare at the tip and watch it sharply penetrate the future, secure in the knowledge that “when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro,” and pulling on my workboots for the times to come.
Good night Gracie, I will be back soon! For like a kidneystone, this too shall pass. Lest this come off as grim, I am having what could be called fun, though like unto Lawrence of Arabia, it has been observed that I have an unusual definition of fun! See ya soon.
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And this is what came out! I can’t say I am fine, but I’m ok, and maybe through the worst of…….it. In the meantime….
🙂
A true Buhdy essay that is right on the ‘money’. Not grim at all, real in balance I would say. I too am having fun, at this point the tree’s are being shaken down. Whats falling out is whats falling out. Meanwhile I see reality creeping in from both sides. The political and the rest of us, globally. My glee at watching the process is tempered/hampered by what has happened. Too bad we can’t just shake off history and start anew.
That is impossible as even our side remains steeped in what has gone before. You cannot snap your fingers and have the wicked witches gone. They will always remain. Getting them back in the bottle is always tougher. Let’s hope that the way is forward, I think so. I’m willing to concede that at least half the populace (not to mention the entrenched pols) is so far gone were screwed unless the ‘change’ includes them.
The middle way as your namesake practically invented always ends up reseting the center. The center we all share. Mind, Body, Spirit.
made glorious summer by this son of Shrub.
I only regret that I have no shoes to give for my country.
–Emma Goldmann
also:
–Emma Goldmann
…has something interesting been happening since my computer died two weeks ago? Seriously, someone fill me in.