The kid settles in no problem, after a harrowing hell-cab ride. It's strangely empty here now with just my heart beat. it's me that has a hard time with change. i'll have a snack. I'm going to leave her paper strewn about. i lost my phone charger and i wonder if she hid it under the big radiator. i got a middle seat and i hope i'm not squished. least i got on the calculation of volume I.

 yanis varoufakis says cloud capital poisons democracy. it's uber techno -feudalism. it killed capitalism. the system has the seeds of its own destruction buried within it. we have to get ready for that. 

my uber ride to bring olive to leah's was a sheer hell ride. hot and dirty. olive was panting and crying and pooped in her crate. my ride home was the opposite, clean and cool, but marco said uber was getting worse, taking more money from the drivers. it used to take 25%, now it takes 60%, and he expects it will soon take 75%. 

cloud capitalism will collapse, i think yanis varoufakis is saying, but meanwhile the techno-feudalists are capturing and stealing the life out of us. 

sorry, olive. i will be back soon.

 When we were kids we were told crime doesn't pay. Nonsense—crime pays, big time. The bigger the crime, the more it pays. That's what makes America so great.

 i'm already missing olive and she's not even gone yet. i remember the song still feel gone. yeah, that feeling. it's almost like a feeling from another life.

I get nervous about any change in routine, especially involving flying, though I can calm myself. I actually didn't fly for 20+ years, like since the war of terror began. A good book always helps. I finished my library books and the one in transit will be returned before I can pick it up, so I think I will buy it. It's called On the Calculation of Volume (Book 1). If I love it, and my intuition hints that I may, there will eventually be 6 more volumes.

That didn't work out. Now i think i'll reread Tillie Olsen's Silences and ask the library to please extend my hold on On the Calculation of Volume until I return.

I wonder what we experience with residual ancestral memory. I don't know when I learned about grandma Rose fleeing a burning house in a pogrom in Ukraine. In my mind it was only shortly before she died. I just wonder if the experience was in my memory before I learned of it. Every bad thing that happens to us happens in the world, and the very earth is scarred with memories. I know I felt something in the pit of my stomach when my uncle settled in a kibbutz before he died of cancer. It was more than my personal history with him. The Zionist holocaust affects me in the pit of my stomach too. Other genocides have happened since the Nazi holocaust, but this one in Gaza seems to affect me particularly, not only for the unimaginable suffering right now, but with the time ghost keening of ancestral memory. 

To be alive is to mourn the dead, and the dying.

 olive will go to stay at leah's while i go to stay with karen and family.