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Tuesday, Mar. 26, 2002 / 11:03 p.m. ~I'm Not Alone in This, But Here, Yes, I Know~ I feel like this could be a series of sentences. One liners, if you will. I can barely see. It happens when I watch TV while lying down. Every time. Comes from the eyes being half open, yet concentrating, focusing. I've just watched "A Cook's Tour", lying down, on the sofa. I'd like to watch "The Osbournes", but it's on at the same time, and I can envision a "marathon" of "The Osbournes" in the near future, so I'm sure I'll get my chance to see them all. I didn't want to come in here, log on, look at this monitor, type, but I felt an obligation to myself, a commitment I'm beginning to shirk. Is that the right word? And I don't want to shirk it, so here I am. Of course, I loved watching Tony Bourdain eat, this time it was in Cambodia, and Tokyo. Yakitori, skewered meats, but he called it "stuff", I think. Or "things", as in unusual, to the American palate, cuts of meats. The Cambodia adventure was more of the journey than what happened once there, in Pailin, the end of the road, the border of Cambodia and Thailand. Interesting, and saracastically humorous, as always, with some biting poke at Martha Stewart. George W. is coming here tomorrow. Not here, not to my apartment, but close enough. Too fucking close, if you ask me, but you didn't. Suffice to say I'm not a fan, and I'm disgusted by all the ass kissing he is getting since 9/11, as if he is holding us all together. Bullfuckingshit. Grrrrr..... a fundraising dinner, $1,000 a plate, something about visiting Georgia Tech to check out advances in bio warfare (? Okay, that I don't know, I'm making that up, not the visit, but the exact reason, though I'd bet I'm not far off), and drumming up support for the Republican Party. Party? Where? Can I go? We got rain today. Good, solid rain, good hard rain, giant black storm clouds, thunder eliciting "oooooohhhhh"s at work. Hard rain elicting "Is that RAIN?!"s at work. Then it cleared, the sun shone, the wind blew, the air cooled a bit, and on my way home I saw the moon rise, the moon almost full, bright and beautiful in an atmosphere cleared sky, an artificial atmosphere cleared sky, and here I refer to the smog, the ever present smog, for once not present. We have pollen now too, and it will get worse and worse despite the increasing absence of vegetation and trees. I saw a forested area tonight on my way back from getting cat food and litter, and I remarked to myself on how beautiful it was, this little forest amidst the parkway, the apartment homes, the hotels, the box stores, this several acre tract not far from the river, and I remarked, again, that it is too close to the river, that it would remain as it is now, not be "developed". Until I saw the For Sale sign. Those several acres are up for sale to the highest bidder. One year from now, or maybe sooner, it will all be gone, some of the last few remaining hardwood trees in the area, bulldozed for yet another apartment community, or another office complex, or maybe a Home Depot. Can't get enough Home Depots. And it made me angry. And it made me glad I've not procreated. And it made me mad that my coworkers, who have children, refuse to recycle their office paper. They are too lazy to walk to the bin, they throw their paper in their trashcans, I want to grab it all, do it for them, but I can't save the world. I can't make people realize they need to ensure a viable environment for their children's sake. I can't make George W. care about Alaska or the Arctic Wildlife Refuge, or SUVs, or anything. And that's why I voted for Al Gore, because I know he cares. I know this. And to have someone in that position of power who cares, that would've been the best we could hope for. I feel we're doomed. When I read of the earthquake in Afghanistan today, the immense loss of life, of homes, I knew, I just knew, somewhere, someone, several someones were saying, "Good. Serves those fuckers right!", and I felt so sad, so disappointed, so disillusioned, so frustrated, so angry. Afghanistan never declared war on us, they simply never did. George W., et al, used Bin Laden as a scapegoat to convince the American people that it would be best if we bombed the fuck out of the Taliban because they were supposedly harboring him. And they, the Taliban are mean and bad. But they were mean and bad before, and we did nothing. Now, we've bombed them, we refuse to acknowledge the deaths of civilians, though there are independent reports of thousands killed by US bombs, and now this. An earthquake comes and finishes them off. And somewhere, Americans are happy about that. They don't care that someone's child, the same age as their own, died. That someone just like them, is crying, is hurt, is suffering. They are glad. I'm sick with it. With the thought. And sick with the thoughts of how many people are gladly sucking up the garbage that's being spooned into their mouths. Not even holding their noses, or closing their eyes, but they're aware, zombie like, totally conscious as they say, "Yes, oh yes, of course, I believe it." That was a train of thought. I rode it. I know no one here, no one here reading this, now, if anyone is, agrees with that. And that makes me sad, angry, as well. And the opportunity to be around THOUSANDS, TENS OF THOUSANDS of people who DO, who UNDERSTAND, whose hearts and minds are open, in D.C. on April 20th, would lift me back up, I know it. To know there are people out there, I don't know them here, only a few, but they'll gather, and we'll all express ourselves loudly, make ourselves heard, make some people snap out of their dreamlike states, that will be worth it. I don't have my reservation "on the bus" yet, but I will, last minute, I will go, I have to. It's my duty as an American citizen, as a taxpayer, and as a human being who cares. I'm very tired. Work is hard lately. Today, three were back, one more was out and the three who came back had to learn the new program. It's not that different, but it's still new, the colors have changed, the tabs and shifts, and control z's, the cutting and pasting, the little things, are different, and they had to learn, and I had too much energy and my mind has been wrapped around trying to remember everything I have to remember. I'm having issues with my memory, so I'm trying harder, making notes, reminding myself, don't forget, don't forget, don't forget. Tonight on my way home I went through numbers I have memorized, in my head, my social, my phone number, the phone numbers at work, all the extensions I have to know, my address, my friend's phone numbers, my brother's phone number, so many numbers, just to see if they're still there. So far, so good. And my period is arriving so slowly, it's like it's always just about my period, or my period, or just after, or just starting PMS, so that I never have a chance to forget I'm in my reproductive years, still, and why? I want to be androgynous. I don't want breasts, or long hair, I don't want a vagina, all these things I never use, they're in the way. My breasts are so small that when they swell at all they're painful and heavy, and feel so huge to me. I want to be lying on a forest floor, seeing the moon, almost full between tree branches with buds just forming. I want to be overwhelmed by the loudness of cicadas, and in the early hours, birds. Loud birds singing in the middle of the night and just at sunrise. Or in the desert, nothing but sky all around. Dry dusty earth and cacti, succulents growing in rocks, and other strange places. Sounds from animals unfamiliar to me. I want to escape to a different place, a place where everything but there is forgotten. Everything but there, nothing but there is there. Anywhere but here, where the news is horrible every day and I can't tune it out because I have to know. But I just want to melt into this Earth, live with a Native American tribe, grind corn with a mortar and pestle, eat chiles and cactus. Maybe instead I'll just go to bed, sleep for a few hours, dream a bit, get up and do it all again. Just try to give it all a rest until morning. Cost of the War in Iraq
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