Defiant and Alive

Dear you,

Christmas day in the bubble of coastal Florida.

Beautiful, warmish, breezy, scattered gentle showers.

My chubby brown girl cat wakes me, pawing at my face, nawing at the spine of the novel by my pillow.

I wake to peace and ease and feline antics.

I wake to NPR and the voice of Sedaris retelling Santaland Diary tales.

I laugh as I do every year, preferring satire to sentiment.

I stroll around the condo grounds between the waves of rain.

They come and go, those waves of rain, like waves of thought, memory, simplicity.

Ah, my lucky peace and ease between the waves of rain.

Chubby cat is napping now, like any other day.

She, like me, is in the bubble, but perhaps she dreams of brother and sister cats far away in war zones.

Perhaps she dreams of strutting triumphant under some country's flag.

Defiant and so alive.

She dreams between the waves of rain.

As do we all.

Defiant and so alive.

Love,

Joyce

Lame Mea Culpas

Dear you,

Breaking news: Powell and Chesebro (2020 election deniers and active participants in the attempt to overthrow the results) have written their apology letters.  Both are vague, one sentence statements that do not directly address their overarching intentions or admit to their misguided fealty to Trump. Sort of "sorry, not sorry" missives.  We need a bit more from them, and we need more than apologies from some other treacherous entities. See Texas:

Citizen Kate Cox was told by dudes (and their handmaids) she could not receive the abortion she needed. She did not meet the requirements set by Attorney General Paxton and his ilk.  The verdict from them:  forced birth.  She had to flee the state and get treatment elsewhere. Texas conservatives, can you muster up at least one sentence communicating your regret?  No, because you think women are cattle. 

See news-bits from frequently questionable sources delivered to our little phones, information tailored to freak us out:  This week, I received "must read" links to articles about BRICS (the Brazil, Russia, India, China and South African alliance) and how their future currency will destroy the dollar.  Run!  Empty your bank account now!  I am not (yet) dumb enough to fall for these types of alarmist predictions, but it did bother me.  Imagine what it did to more vulnerable types.  Hey, BRICS pimps, could you craft a "sorry" for agitating your elders?  No, because you believe in financial Darwinism, or something like that, believing the "weak" deserve to be destroyed.

And then see the ultimate misogynist chatted about on X (formerly known as Twitter which child Elon has pretty much destroyed, as was his motive all along) this week.  The man, vaguely referred to as a military type, was praised for how well he has trained his wife.  She does not eat until he has completed his meal. How about putting together one sentence admitting to your weakness and cruelty, tough guy? No, because you are a base level asshole.

There are many things I might be sorry for, but nothing I have ever done was intended to subvert democracy, dehumanize women in any way, or exploit the fears of vulnerable people. But I must share a one-sentence apology for "judging" them:

I am sorry Paxton is a douche, sorry the BRICS pimps are spiritually bankrupt, and sorry asshole husbands still exist.

Really, really sorry.

Happy Holidays!

Joyce

Artful Dodges

Dear you,

George Santos is no longer Congressman George Santos.  Today, he was officially expelled from Congress. Unprecedented action suited to these unprecedented-everything times.  Poor boy George, taking the American mythology of self-creation too far.  Such an obvious liar, caught in that old tangled web. I suppose we all lie, perhaps not on the Santos-Trump scale, but on the "lighter side" of deception, perhaps we just need to dodge something. The dodge lie is probably pretty common.  Most of us have made stuff up to avoid a dreaded encounter or consequence.  I recall these little dodges of my own:

In the eighties during my fabulous Manhattan days, I remember telling a "beau" I couldn't meet him for a date because I had to unpack my trunk. (What was I thinking and why did I choose a trunk when clearly I had not been traveling on a luxury ocean liner.)

Also in those heady eighties, I told a real beau that my relationship with another cast-member on the road in Best Little whorehouse in Texas was nothing to worry about since the guy was gay.  (As it turns out, the guy was gay.  And as justice would have it, the real beau dumped me.)

During a teaching gig in St. Pete., Florida, I told a particularly deplorable student that I couldn't meet him during office hours because I didn't have to have office hours due to my "special status".  (Of course he ratted me out.  I don't care; it was worth it.)

In a recent conversation with a neighbor, I told her I went to the doctor for a checkup every year. Truth is, I never go to the doctor unless something breaks or explodes. (I said this because the neighbor is actually a sweet soul, rare in this zone, and I didn't want her to worry about me.)

And almost every day in condo-world, I avoid "exciting" the schadenfreude types by never describing my real situation.  I might have a toothache, be aggravated by my maniac cat, annoyed by the idiots at the grocery store, or freaked out about the jury summons I just received, but they will never get to enjoy my pain.  My consistent reply to their creepy "How ARE you(s)?" is consistently this:  "I am absolutely fabulous, always."

Well, no true harm done in any case, right?  Maybe lying is just part of being human, part of our efforts to protect ourselves, create ourselves.  But consider this from Andre Malraux, "Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides."

And with that being said, I must now sign off.  I have to unpack my trunk. God only knows what I have hidden in there.

Love,

Joyce

Condo Boards and Congress, Fight Clubs!

Dear you,

This week, Republican Senator Mullin of Oklahoma challenged Sean O'Brien, Teamsters president, to a duel, a fisty one, right on the senate hearing floor. "Stand your butt up."  "You stand your butt up."  That was the challenge and the retort, very fifth grade playground. Fabulous Senator Sanders, brother Bernie, had to remind Mullin that he was a senator, for god's sake. And then, in the House, former Speaker McCarthy was accused of elbowing an enemy congressman in the kidney.

Is this happening or am I failing to distinguish between (once again) satire and reality? As for shenanigans in Congress, in the current online Onion, see "Woman Comes Out of Manic Episode to Discover She's Been Elected U.S. Representative."  (From Florida, naturally.) In the sassy piece, the fictional congresswoman comes out of the episode and recalls some things she stated at rallies that her supporters loved: "I do know I said something about foreign oil being a juice concocted by Jesus Christ that would make U.S. troops grow tall enough to marry the Statue of Liberty." Actually, this sounds like something many Florida folks would cheer for.

What a hot mess, petty violence and idiocy. Like here, in my zone and the utter shit-show of my HOA.  This idiocy was on full display during the yearly owners meeting last Saturday.  Newer owners with ego problems have been working on their own little version of January 6, Lilliputian insurrectionists.  On forums such as Eneighbors, one standout ego-maniac lobs personal attacks on older board members and accuses the management company of something close to fraud.  After the vote for  next year's Board of Directors failed to meet his expectations (the older, calmer souls were actually re-elected), he suggested the management company had purposely "botched" the election.  Yeah, like "the election was rigged!"  I could not resist responding to all the infighting by quoting from Palahniuk's real Fight Club:  "The things you own end up owning you.  It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything." I also stated that I would be happy to let my condo go for $50 and exit laughing since everything here is so ridiculous.  (Word has it the owners who are currently listing their condos for sale totally freaked out about that.  Talk about blowing the comps!)  Sadly, the infighting here will probably not end any time soon, as it will probably not end any time soon in Congress. It's all Fight Club, but without the philosophical inspiration or literary sizzle.

To close, I wish you all well.  I shall now "stand my butt up" and try to carry on as the tragic-comedies continue.

Love,

Joyce

Look, listen, and STFU

Dear you,

Reading Dan Lyons' new book, STFU - The power of Keeping Your Mouth Shut in an Endlessly Noisy World, has shifted my perspective a bit.  How much pointless chatter do I create?  What do I choose to listen to and see?  Hearing him, this morning, instead of mainlining MSNBC, getting riled up and then X-posting (formerly known as tweeting) about it, I sipped morning coffee without Morning Joe and cared for my princess cat. During my workout and brunch, I listened to Vladimir Horowitz playing Scarlatti, Mozart, and Rachmaninov, a magnificent piano concert recommended by my friend, New York James. Bravo. Tips from Lyons and James made my morning-self stronger/zippier. And less stupid.

Choosing where to direct my mind, my spirit, is not hiding from the chaotic world but being in it with some sense of control.  And peace, even if fleeting.  Look and listen carefully, selectively and objectively.  Local example:

The other day, military jets were screaming overhead.  The sounds of war preparation, louder than I usually hear in this dual Air Force base location. I looked up and saw the white trails jets leave in the sky, our now bright blue cooler sky.  Then I looked down and saw a man at work by the pool, patiently shoveling sand into the six foot hole created by plumbing repair folk.  He surely heard the jet screams, but did not look up.  He focused on task, filling the gap, packing down the sand and then covering the surface with cement. Like him, those jet pilots were on task.  They could not see him but always "hear" him; they know he is theirs to protect and defend.

I looked and listened and saw something beautiful.  The pilots in the sky and the worker on the ground were on task in distinctly different yet artful ways. I didn't feel driven to immediately voice my opinions about military funding or workers' rights. I chose to Shut the Fuck Up and to Shut It (the purposefully inflammatory digital or televised chatter) the Fuck Off. 

Of course the irony here is I am creating blog-chatter on the subject of #STFU, not totally shutting the fuck up.  But my intention is to not go all anti-tech or anti-anything.  I will still enjoy Morning Joe with my morning cup of joe, still post mini-blogs, and still comment on "X", but in each case, will do so with less frequency and more intent.

Look, listen.

Joyce

Atlas shrugs.

Dear you,

Mythic Atlas holds the world on his shoulders.  Is he losing his grip?  It seems this is so.  

To type my spin on another war, the terrorist attack against Israel this weekend, is something I don't want to do.  My words fail, cannot capture what needs to be said.  I will, however, share a simple moment from this time.  I call it a Bubble Moment:

Sometimes I have to walk away from the coverage of world events; yes, I have the luxury of doing that. I frequently tune in to reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, Mike and Molly, and Friends late at night.  I know the plots and everything gets resolved or at least tidied up in a thirty minute box.  A night or so ago, a Friends episode featured a view from a character's office, a perfect view of the Rockefeller Center Atlas.  This popped my bubble of escapism.  This god, forever, must support the sky. The Fifth Avenue statue depicts him supporting the entire globe. What happens if and when he can no longer bear the weight?  What happens if he (alluding to Rand's writing) shrugs? That is what I feel like has happened these days. Atlas has shrugged, but the sky hasn't fallen.

Atlas is us, the ones who hope to be on the right side of history. I want to be a part of that. I'll begin by turning off the reruns and emerging from all things "bubble".

That's all I've got this day.

Love and endurance,

Joyce 

Rednecks with Chainsaws

 Dear you,

This moment, the House votes to determine Speaker McCarthy's future.  The usual cast of far right characters are coming for him and they might get what they want.  During all this, the most deranged commentary I hear is about how all this is the fault of the Democrats, who, by the way voted with Republicans to not shut the government down last weekend.  I also hear how our unwillingness to vote to save McCarthy's hold on the gavel is the problem. Lot's of talk. But my focus remains clear and what I recognize is this:  the Gaetz-MAGA chaos machine is armed with chainsaws, happy to dismember and decapitate a functioning government; they dream of a not so good past life.  No subtlety, no negotiation, just slash and burn.  Like the "tree service" crew my condo board sent to oddly deface (and possibly kill) the formerly gorgeous holly tree outside my balcony.  That was Tuesday morning . . .

I was drinking coffee and mainlining MSNBC morning news when I saw the service truck pull up by my building.  Printed aggressively on the truck was the now empty phrase IN GOD WE TRUST. I winced.  In this area, that seemingly benign phrase is often used to cover brutal behaviors. I ran downstairs to inquire, what is up?  Do you intend to take down that holly tree?  "No, mam, we're just here to trim it back."  Fine.  It needed trimming and certainly shaping. I hoped for the best, but then the "boss" arrived". The workers with the trimming tools were told to yield and let him take over.  The boss jumped into one of those crane-lift chairs (sorry, don't know what they are actually called) and proceeded to move into the holly armed with a screaming chainsaw. I winced again. Rednecks with chainsaws, what could possibly go wrong?  And "wrong" went down.  The poor tree is now decapitated, taken down to the second floor level; entire branches hacked off.  It looks like a skeleton version of its old self.  I cried.

Now, again as noted above, I listen to the battle between rationality and chaos going down in the House.  Those who wish us harm (not just the Gaetz contingent but also the "centrist" republicans) push "parental rights" in education (a.k.a. puritanical repression), expansion of fossil fuel production, forced birth policies, and the erasure of equal rights for LGBTQ citizens. They might not all be literal rednecks, but they all wield metaphorical chainsaws.

Wherever you are today, pay attention, please.  So much is at stake, so much more than my holly tree.

Carry on!

Love,

Joyce