seven daze out, as of today. six daze before the day most of the sane of us have been dreaming of, pondering, wishing for for the last four years. seven daze from the beginning of the next part of our american acid trip of terror, because let’s face it, friends, you’d be a fool to think we are seven away from the end.
it has been quite some time since i’ve last written, hasn’t it? my pen, admittedly driven only by medical grade sativas these days and thus rendered unable to pace with our contemporary, adderall driven, americo-fascist news cycle. tell me, just how is any one semi-stable semi-sane stoner/person able to process fully the tragic and cruelly poetic passing of justice ginsberg yesterday when a presidential, pestilence ridden, super spreader event has just broken today, knowing tomorrow yet another, possibly past, possibly present event, will again break through the airwaves or upon the pages of newspapers, spinning us all further into russian plotted, b00g^II00’d confusion & chaos, incredulousness, exhaustion, forced into this magadystopian reality show by forty fucking six percent of our racist and or stupid fucking electorate.
my mental health took a nosedive back in september when all of northern california woke up one morning beneath a blanket of ash — houses and people and life existing that day below a blood orange sky, matching a type of skin in both tone and toxicity. well, maybe not a nosedive so much as began to hang on just by a thread, somewhat weakened, a fifty cent chance it will break.
i’d risen that morning before my partner had, not quite believing my eyes as i stumbled out of bed into the dark. i turned around and went back and woke them.
“honey. the sky is really fucked-up today.”
we’d been living in smoke, for what? two weeks by then. but this was a whole ‘nother level, the northwest coast of the united states blade runner 2020. we would spend the day sitting around our living room, all of the shades drawn up, staring out of our windows in disbelief, lucky because the thousands of acres of fire was then racing up other hills and not those just to the east of us, all of our senses askew while the sky darkened as the day wore on.
the smoke would eventually clear in time for the death of justice ginsberg followed by our cat — the loss of each monumentally tragic for their own reason, the loss of each a surprise that i really could have done without in THAT particular moment, like the yet another delay in payment of my unemployment insurance by the california employment development department for whatever unknown reason.
there have been moments, though, moments of hope. some of them, sadly, turned out to be futile. some are yet to turn out. some, i’m finding, will always just shine, no matter what lies before us next week. the waves of mourners paying their respect for her on the steps of the court, so many leaving flowers, so many young women and girls. so many of their signs that read, “VOTE.” the dodgers’ world series win, longed for for such a long time, by so many souls, both living and dead. a win that was so very sweet until the heart and soul of the team tested poz for covid then went out on the field celebrating their well-deserved win just like was no big twang. and then just a couple of days ago in the washington post, in a story on the first day of voting in maryland, i think it was — this photo.
i looked for it, but failed to find it. of a polling place, just before dawn. the sun just just just starting to peak over the horizon of the parking lot, the tan, suede boots of a working man framed in the center, walking towards what, i can’t remember, the end of the long long line of voters or maybe the entrance. either way the photo brought me to tears. like the stories and photos of the oldest people that live here, out there in the virus, casting their votes and pleading before all of our cameras because this is The One. The Election Like Never Before.
we dropped off our ballots on a beautiful friday afternoon, walking through campus with our dogs, holding so close my beautiful queer family and those ever fleeting moments of hope for the next seven daze and beyond.