this was captioned i'm such a mess. i don't even know how to say. but now i'm so tired and hungry and frazzled yet by the meeting with my trump friend and i forgot it is also my dad's birthday, sorry dad, happy birthday, i make a space to you, with this carapace. a space in my heart, well i can try. i do miss you. i find i wonder what you would have to say about trump america. when you were the leader of the young republicans in sullivan and cheered nixon's visit, could you ever have imagined what nixon would do to us, let alone here and now in trump america? well, we can't talk politics anymore. you made it to bush junior and we finally had an affinity. or maybe it was there beneath the political reality. do we still have that? we can't clash anymore, and we were tired before, tired enough to sigh and commiserate, and i think we'd have come to support life together, but you had to die. what kind of a birthday message is this anyway. i can almost hear you say.