the crises we face are mostly of our creation. but we are caught in something larger than us. it overwhelms us. dharma drama. the cosmic order disordered by our petty vengeful hateful and careless machinations. limned by love and desire for something better than this alien disorder.
this is also a cat report. it was a hard morning. i went to sleep grumpy, with a dramamill pill, while r. packed, and i woke groggy and grumpy to a lowering gray winter sky laying like a grave blanket over obombaland. r. leaves for skokie, then kali. my brain feels smoked. we walked around the model yacht pond, dogs within bars circling and us orbiting outside. saw a helicopter hovering. mike said it always hovers there. obomba? i say? obomba, who knows obomba. why not him or someone else. maybe a more garish mask. the product of ruthless market freedom. on the way i saw the fire trucks and on the way back, more, flashing slow emergency, a cameraman tells me there's a gas leak in the school next to the new vortex tower. tha's all i know, mac. it's all the same, they call me i go, another emergency, until i go on my own emergency. this local event, it feels like part of the mac vortex, the obomba personal complex, and g20, the mind hunkers down local while the mind satellites go wherever trouble starts or solace waits, outward seeking confirmation, sense, connection, solidarity.
sorry, r. i should  have rose with my better angels intending. sometimes my attention gets lost and misdirected.

back home i find penny where r.'s laptop was, with her mouse beside her on the times magazine issue, the insect apocalypse is here.