i am with my golden buddha today ecstatic. we are tired of fighting. we go on.
democracy is dead. we can now have the funeral. and celebrate life.
i'm reading alison peck between gods fascinated at the resemblance. she has the nameless dread that i do, and a grandma rose too, who also denied her past as a jew like mine. i got to alison via a book on blanchot that turned into a disquisition on the torah that was impenetrable, yet led me to this memoir that is in a profound way consistent with my life and informed by the same severance and generational trauma that i think informs me...i don't think it's judaism but the severance of memory that causes dread, that dislocates and undermines. i think this is a national malaise, the sorrow of empire played out in the family.
sigh... well maybe more about that later.
but he's mortal too. and he can't kill freedom.
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