2 + 2 = 5
In the end, he came to say: He loved Big Brother
At times we need to keep our anger. If we breathe too deeply, accept too much, we can acquiesce to the loss of our own souls. Rage, rage against the machine.
Good Enough to Eat
Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters—sometimes very hastily—but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.
the aftermath is still growing
sometimes words become not enough. or too much. too much to be able to provoke outward from the gut and the mind resists in that blinding fashion it has of twisting around and refusing to land. and there’s not a net wide enough or tight enough to capture a page of thoughts much less coherent ones. maybe a few sentences? maybe a paragraph? i’m begging here.
the pipeline will go through. but we knew that would happen. five counties contributed their police forces so they could beat men and women and children with freezing water from fire hoses, pelt them with stun grenades, shoot the horse out from under an Indian boy. Still
a priest friend had his name and title defamed because he wore a pink-knit hat with ears for a short portion of his sermon last Sunday. his name was entered on the Change.org site in order to petition to have him defrocked. he preached about love and acceptance.
here’s our new Sec. of Education, who believes that teachers are overpaid:
one cannot sleep long enough
Frida
Love love love Frida Kahlo. Did you know that she had an affair with Trotsky? That fascinates me, as much of her life does.
From Twitter—Woman’s march
Writers Ink—Writing and Stuff 