Reckoning

Two weeks ago,, a massive conflagration tore through the Rogue Valley. I finally drove through the fire zone, it's surreal. Entire city blocks in ashes and rubble. Kivan's old apartment building gone. All the green, lush Oregon underbrush, the blackberry and creeping vines, gone. The topography is stripped bare, revealing the bones of the hills and ravines. I see landscape i never knew was there.. It looks like a battlefield. 

It's quite the backdrop for the grotesque antics of the mad king and his craven coterie. Tomorrow, he is going to nominate a Martha from The Handmaid's Tale to Ruth Bader Ginsburg's seat on the Supreme Court. 6 weeks to the election; I can't watch, it's too terrifying

Meanwhile, the global pandemic still stalks the land.  Meanwhile, I sleep next to an inert, silent mass with a cold, closed heart. Is this really who I want to stand with as the world comes to an end? It

In short, life is pretty fucking grim. Strangely, my job has been a bright spot.  It feels good to be useful. But damn, I hit the wall today, physically and emotionally. I slept through the alarm which i never do, got to work late and worked straight through till 5:00. I was in a weird mood all day. Finally, around 3 pm, I put in my earphones and listened to the blues, Skip James, Son House, John Lee Hooker. Its the perfect soundtrack for the apocalypse sister. I can never, ever understand what it's like to be black in America and carry 400 years of brutal, murderous oppression on my back. My privilege is vast. But, I'm telling you, 2020 has give me a whole new feeling for the blues. 

There's a reckoning coming for feckless boomers like me. The end is nigh.