Swimming Pools and Politics

 

Dear you,

While the J6 rally was pretty lame yesterday, the poison consumed by millions of the benighted is still very popular, poison pimped as political nutrition. We are doing what we can, I suppose, to toss their toxins into another dustbin of history, but nothing seems to be working.  They don’t care, here or anywhere.  The “here” in Seagrove Beach analogy for ingesting poison mindlessly happened earlier this week.

Our west pool needed repair, the pool under my balcony. Monday/Tuesday, I noticed dudes at the pool mucking about.  A few hours later, I noticed the pool was slowly emptying.  I assumed there was some kind of pump taking the water to a big vat, and later they’d dispose of the chemically loaded (plus visitor urine loaded) goop in an approved/safe area.  I was wrong again.  More hours later, when I exited to run errands, the south parking lot was flooded with noxious pool water.  It was running towards the beach road and open storm drains.  The smell was gag-worthy. The chlorine in the air caused coughs, watery eyes, and maybe worse.  The guests noticed, coughing and eye leaking just like me, but didn’t care.  They were just pissed off that one of the two pools was closed.

Days later, the smell remained.  The condo complex should have been shut down by the EPA or OSHA or something.  This lazy choice by the HOA board/management got no blowback here in #DeathSantis Country where everyone is free to pollute at will, consume the poison of one’s choice, and spread toxic misinformation.  I know their reasons.  Money.  It would cost us to do it right.  I hate them.  Not much I can say to stop their privileging of money above all.  A toxic state of mind.

Pools and politics.  Orlando, Florida, a more civilized part of the state, has some rules about the former that should be applied to the latter:

“Do not drain your pool water into streets, gutters, or storm drains.”  Applied version: Do not spread your lies on social media sites, bumper stickers, or Fox & Friends.

“High levels of salts, chlorine, or other chemicals can make its way into waterways harming aquatic organisms and wildlife.”  Applied version: High levels of paranoia, science-denial, or other forms of ignorance can make their ways into public forums, harming those of us who have to share space with reactionaries and tinfoil hat wearers.

“Pumping the water directly into a sanitary sewer clean out is also not permitted.”  Applied version: Pumping the filth directly into a Matt Gaetz podcast is also not permitted.

Good luck getting those regulations passed in this zip code.

As for now, the effects on site at the Villas linger.  I haven’t seen birds in my holly tree, the palms and pines or even the bushes lately.  Is there a connection?  Perhaps.

The visitors don’t care.  All they know is the pool is back open and they can swim (and pee) without a care in the world.  The cost of their refreshed cement pond was only environmental.  A non-issue.  Poison apparently is a matter of opinion too.

Still here, dodging toxins of all kinds,

Your Joyce

 

Run for your life . . .

 

Dear you,

I blogged weeks ago about that dreaded Texas anti-abortion law.  Lone star women are running to other states to terminate pregnancies . . . if they have the means to travel.  I hear some are even headed to Mexico where abortion has been decriminalized.  Evacuations are the thing now.  We run away from each other, from Covid, from war; we run away from the anti-vaxer fascist next door.  We run from fires, tornadoes, floods, and of course, hurricanes.  In Seagrove Beach, we are hosting so many folks whose homes were wrecked by Ida; even if some structures are standing, power is not returning for weeks in places like LaPlace, Louisiana.

The unit across the landing from me is the temporary home to a family from LaPlace.  The group is big, grandmother, mother, two adult daughters, a couple of menfolk, a toddler, an elder with alzheimer’s and a teen with emotional problems.  That’s a lot. So far, they have been better neighbors than the usual vacationers.  But this could change.  How long can that many people stay jammed together in one condo and not lose their minds?  Perhaps they are good with it all, just being together and alive.  If their home is not repaired in time, where do they go next?  Where do we all go next? What’s the next reason to run? Here in the USA, it might be wise to prep for an exit because of a looming Civil War (part 2). The neo-confederates are assembling in D.C. a week from tomorrow, rallying to remember their January 6^th insurrection and honor its participants. Hideous people, tarnishing yet another September day.

Why that date, why September 18?  Maybe the neos have a special connection with that day and its noted celebrations. According to daysoftheyear.com, here’s what we celebrate on 9/18:

International Red Panda Day

Cheeseburger Day

First Love Day

Locate An Old Friend Day

Read An Ebook Day

Hug A Greeting Card Writer Day

Respect Day

Gymnastics Day

Water Monitoring Day

Coastal Cleanup Day

Eat An Apple Day

The only festivities on that list that seem to jive with fascist white nationalism are, maybe, cheeseburger day and locate an old friend day.  You know how they love to scream about libs taking away their beef.  And those “old friends” they want to locate are probably banned from Facebook and Twitter so they have to meet up at a rally. As for the other days, I am thinking endangered species, romance, reading, writers, athletes with opinions, environmental projects and the forever Eve-tainted apple are things they hate.  And forget about their relationship with “respect”.

These rally types are all over the place now.  And they really do want another Civil War; this is not hyperbole. Non-rally types should probably evacuate.

But we won’t. We still have power.

Running from fires, floods, winds, and war is the sensible thing to do.  But running from fascist assholes?  Not happening.  As they like to say, we will “stand our ground”.  And we will look so much prettier than them while doing that.

Stay.

Don’t evacuate.

Celebrate the best of September 18.

Joyce

 

Getting Over . . . Carrying On

 

Dear you,

This weekend, I kept the television running non-stop.  Between heartbreaking updates about our exit from Kabul and hurricane Ida, commercials carried on in the most disturbing way.  A former sitcom star screamed gleefully about “dynomite” Social Security benefits. A hyper-happy voiceover ordered me to “Show off your white smile this Labor Day!” An emu tried to sell me insurance.  Meanwhile, New Orleans went dark and thousands were left behind in Afghanistan.

The disconnect was unsettling.  The reality of events competing with the reality of the marketplace. Networks cannot run on nothing.  I know they need commercials to stay on the air and keep me informed.  But this seemed so out of alignment, twisted.  The twisting continues today.

I listen to details about how the #TexasTaliban essentially ended abortion rights in their state, how they pulled this off and why the SCOTUS majority just let it go.  Then, this:

“Here’s why birthday candles are the perfect gift.”

I listen to updates about Ida flooding the northeast.  And then this:

“Everything’s better between King’s Hawaiian bread.”

We seem, in some ways and in some places, to be carrying on. Life rolling along. No good can come from tears without action.  No good can come from walking around in sackcloth and ashes.  But it feels wrong to be bopping around all “dynomite” happy during these tragedies.  How to do this?  How to find balance without being mindless? Time for a refresher course in stoic philosophy. I have been reading and re-reading Marcus Aurelius since last year, perfect advice for these days. From Book III of his Meditations:

“You need to avoid certain things in your train of thought:  everything random, everything irrelevant.  And certainly everything self-important or malicious.  You need to get used to winnowing your thoughts, so that if someone says, “What are you thinking about?” you can respond at once (and truthfully) that you are thinking this or thinking that.  And it would be obvious at once from your answer that your thoughts were straightforward and considerate ones – the thoughts of an unselfish person, one unconcerned with pleasure and with sensual indulgence generally, with squabbling, with slander and envy, or anything else you’d be ashamed to be caught thinking.

Someone like that – someone who refuses to put off joining the elect – is a kind of priest, a servant of the gods, in touch with what is within him and what keeps a person undefiled by pleasures, invulnerable to any pain, untouched by arrogance, unaffected by meanness, an athlete in the greatest of all contests – the struggle not to be overwhelmed by anything that happens.  With what leaves us dyed indelibly by justice, welcoming whole heartedly whatever comes – whatever we’re assigned – not worrying too often, or with any selfish motive, about what other people say. Or do, or think.

He does only what is his to do and considers constantly what the world has in store for him – doing his best, and trusting that all is for the best.  For we carry our fate with us – and it carries us.”

Marcus Aurelius wasn’t suggesting I stop brushing my teeth, buying presents, or eating tasty bread. He would be indifferent to inane commercial breaks and advise me to do the same.  He’d say focus, be an “athlete in the greatest of all contests – the struggle not to be overwhelmed by anything that happens.”  He’d say learn this:

We live serious content interrupted by commercial breaks.

It all just is.

If I really get that, if I know how to roll, I can show off my smile this Labor Day with gravitas and balance. Like a stoic athlete.  Up and over the bar.

Still trying,

Joyce