In the woods, hoping the earth will be saved

How to begin. Always a question, now made more difficult by everything that has happened. So many words written about so many awful actions, people, events, kidnappings, murders. A list of unthinkable acts, and listing them is the banality of evil at its best. Or the headlines that place a heavy thumb on the both sides have good people version of shooting someone in the back on a snowy street. Like some defensive Republican in front of the camera shouting about how the other side wants crime.

Against the professionals, a cacophony of verbiage, with the odd moment that stands out. Why is it so? And all the sentences join together to make one chain of discontent, fear, anger, protest.

I protested last weekend. It was bitterly cold, and I kept thinking there are people suffering. There are people who would long to be free to feel nothing in their feet and toes.

I had a conversation with a man who gave me a small American flag to fly. I didn’t have a sign, so I took it, half wanting something to wave in the air, half being polite. The minute the flag was in my hands, I regretted it. Yes, I agreed that this symbol shouldn’t be hijacked by the fascist far right now controlling the country. But it has been tainted. It’s now in my car, on the floor by the passenger seat. He told me to bring it to the next protest. I kept thinking it’s like insurance. If I were stopped – look! I have a flag. I must be right thinking. One of those women who value so-called protection – a big man, a big country – there to stand guard. I don’t want it. I imagine sticking it in the snow somewhere. But what good would that do? It’s a symbol of something that no longer exists, or the people who pretend otherwise.

Yet I have no man, no country – nor do I want one. Because I have realized the lies that accompany all the illusions – of a loving family, except the father shot his daughter, a caring partner, except they have to watch the other half dragged out of a car, a country that doesn’t destroy the planet, except for announcing greenhouse gases don’t harm the earth or the people on it, or condone the destruction of young lives, families, girls, women, trees, oceans, whales – except that’s another list. On and on, filing banality under B, or under T for too much, O for oh come on, or F for for fuck’s sake is anyone going to… No. They are not.

This administration is a box-ticking machine, a fascist force marching in lockstep. And far too many people on the sidelines watching it happen. I told someone I work with that I went to a protest. She looked at me, frowning. The French call it un regard fuyant. We aren’t supposed to discuss politics. Awkward. Someone important told me that the job of the institution was not to be political. That may have been true before, I said, but now – this is not about politics. It’s about morality. He also gave me an odd look. A woman brought me the guidelines regarding ICE. This makes it real for people, I told her. She agreed, and said they are in town. They got someone that they were looking for. I looked at her. They had been looking for him, she repeated. Then admired my computer screen. From fuyant to flying away from any difficulty. I better watch my unruly tongue. I get it.

Another day in America.

At the protest, the man who gave me the flag said that too much money was given to NATO. Then I looked at him. And said but so much is given in return. Think of the land that is given for US bases in Europe. He looked at me. A short time later he went away to a different section of the protest. Apparently he was one of the people who organized it.

Another day, people looking at each other, too much unsaid.

I don’t know what to say anymore.

America, arriving late to fight fascism. Even with historical precedent, you’d think more people would not want to do that again. On their own land. Especially.

At what point does one get up and say, enough is enough, I can’t work with you if you won’t use your power and influence to take a stand.

But everyone’s got their second homes in the mountains, and their connections, and you’d be a fool to lose those, right?

I have a friend who wishes for the Zombie Apocalypse. I think it’s already come.

The soullessness of the current fascist cabal running the country. The dead stare of the current Attorney General, smirking in front of survivors who are brave enough to come to a government hearing. This is the backdrop, this is the drip of poison that filters into our everyday lives. Too frightened, too complacent, too convinced that an exceptionalism already built on lies will somehow hold the country together as the red line moves further on, as we buy a coffee before work. Murdering people in the streets, horrible acts done to children, unreadable, unthinkable, families torn apart, left to die in tents, in “facilities” is now just another day.

What psychic damage does that do? Rollback of regulations. Lasers fired. Our tax dollars, etc. etc. are paying for this. Another protest is scheduled. More words. Turbo Tax will figure out how much I’m supposed to contribute, how much I already have done.

We laugh, we go to work. We don’t laugh. We don’t sleep. I don’t sleep. I’m supposed to understand the pressures people are under. I send an email. There are good people.

There is a clip of Bad Bunny performing in a NYC subway station. And for a moment, joy returns. Maybe all is not lost. Maybe people can touch each other and save everything, art can overcome business as usual.

I fucking hope so.