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Wednesday, Jan. 26, 2005 / 6:52 p.m. ~Political Anger Resurfaces, and a Movie~ I just heard a sound byte that spoke volumes, and I wish I hadn't, as we have another four years of the moron from hell 'leading' this country. Bush says he just doesn't subscribe to the belief that we are not 'making progress' in Iraq. He lives in a bubble. He has no idea. He laughs, he fucking LAUGHS, and he says, "I mean, we're having elections!" We? We??? It's not our country, you fuckhead, and the whole reason for going in there and bombing the holy fuck out of it was negated, proven wrong, a LIE, and still, still, STILL you persist in your delusion? Jesus god. And Jesusfuckingchrist too. I want to grab him and shake him. Just shake him, just to see if his brain can somehow right itself. There must be some way for someone to get to him, to show him the news, to make him sit and watch the news reports, to see the footage of the dead, the wounded. Does he know what's going on over there? At all? On this, the so called bloodiest day for American soldiers, that is what he says? That he can't see how people do not think we're making PROGRESS? I'm appalled, dismayed, shocked, disgusted, I want to vomit, all over GW Bush. And then I want to force him to sit with the wounded, and the families of the dead, both American and Iraqi. For days. For days he should have to see the PROGRESS we've made. Fucking insulated bastard, most privileged man in the whole fucking world, not only deluding himself, but fucking delusional! Whew. This is why I have ignored the state of things in this country since the election. This is why my head went into the sand and has remained so. I can't take the futility, the knowledge that there is nothing we can do. We tried so fucking hard, and it looked like we could usurp his power, rid ourselves of him, but it didn't work, and there is nothing we can do. Nothing. I believe this. Enough of that. Me? I'm amazed at my own existence, where I was a week ago, and where I am now. My own delusions, and my own waking, my own realization that there was nothing I could do. And I'd said it so many times, so very many, 'There is nothing more that I can do, that's it, what else can I do?, that's it, that's all I can do.' And then some gleam of optimism would light me, inspire me, a fire inside, and I would keep trying, again and again, and hoping, and believing I had made a difference. And then, well, and then. Then. Now? Can't say. No details shall be revealed. It's good, it's good, that is all. I won free passes to a private screening of a Best Foreign Film Oscar nom, and went last night, 'wanding', purse looking into, and all. And a boy's chorus sang for us pre-film. Delightful. Really. I felt a part of some very special and exclusive event. I'd gone to the bistro next door before, for a quick bowl of the soup du jour, a lovely creamy spinach, and a glass of Shiraz, and sat to watch the beauteous bartender girl, who I'd swear was watching me back. It seemed she exaggerated her pouring movements, right in front of me, as if performing some bartender routine just for me. Big brown eyes, little compact thing, short hair, lithe and springy, cute, cute, cute. Sat and listened to the people, and inhaled their smoke, and wanted to sit there forever, but had just the time to scarf soup and drink wine, and head into the wanding and purse looking into, then the boy's chorus and the lovely and sweet French "Les Choristes" - music teacher starts fresh at boarding school for troubled boys, turns them into a lovely boy's choir, and not much happens really. Short, sweet, he is ejected, he made an impact, the boys grow up. Wanted company for this, all of it, bad. Sat with cell phone thinking of whom to text message, whom to call, and I could think of no one who would enjoy a French film, soup du jour and glass of wine. Very sad, but I enjoy my own company, so it was not for naught. Day to look forward to? Sunday. Sunday it is. Feeling flusy, must lie down much this evening, must take extra echinacea, must take vitamins, must keep with the drinking of water, and I must have drunk a gallon today already. Last week? Bliss... and then it disappeared. This week? The world keeps changing, earth keeps on spinning, and we are all just getting by, aren't we? Some more adventuresome than others? That was only last week? It all just disappeared, and I felt it as it slipped away, I could feel it. He let go and I felt myself fly away, like a balloon, string unstrung from finger which had held it with only tenuous grasp... Cost of the War in Iraq
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