don't stop talking about gaza, kids. |
Wednesday, January 31, 2024
i said to lulu let's go look for my lost lens cap, i'm not expecting to find it, but we will look carefully, and there it was, face up, olympus. for i've said it before, so many times now, for she's my lucky lulu. and all the children of the earth sing, free palestine! free us all! under the wintering wishing tree.
Earth Keeper |
When we dance the earth trembles. When our steps fall on the earth we feel the shudder of life beneath us, and the earth feels the beating of our hearts, and we become one with the earth. We shall not sever ourselves from the earth. We must chant our being, and we must dance in time with the rhythms of the earth. We must keep the earth.
N. Scott Momaday
Tuesday, January 30, 2024
when i don't know what to say i'm apt to say something meaningless, or repeat some banality, when i should be silent and just look around me. there's a lot of blather in the air. sometimes i think about all the voices flying around from device to device, and the birds listening to the noises we make, wondering what in the world we could be going on about. i used to hide from people when i was lost for words—all the time. i couldn't relate to people. i still feel that way, but i'm not as mortified as i used to be. i feel like i do have something to say, even if i don't know how to say it. i always felt like something wasn't right with us, as humans, and i wondered why everyone was pretending the same thing. people must get so awful tired of pretending. i know, it's how we're brought up, i've pretended too. it's so unreal. it's exhausting. it's a fancy thought i have, that we're going to wake up soon and as a loose gathering of people say—enough pretending.
we found a harry barker ball and when i took the camera out to photograph this sad watermelon i lost the lens cap. it's embarrassing how bummed i can get over losing such a simple thing, while every day people are losing their homes and their families. it's heartbreaking that kids are dying, but i'm glad the kids at ray school are thinking of the genocide their parents are paying for.
Monday, January 29, 2024
it's actually sunny and warm today. i pumped up my tires and rode to the library. my chain was funky. i got an oversized remedios varo, science fictions, and lord jim at home. i was hoping remedios would stay put in my dog purse. i paid my dum phone. talked to my buds about the fall of the empire. i was too hungry. my chain got further bunged up, remedios and lord jim fell out, unhurt, and i walked my bike home. all in all a purty good day so far.
Sunday, January 28, 2024
honestly i think i may hafta fast forward or bail outa sátantango. i'm 4:09 hours in and 3:07 to go. the accordion is starting to drive me cray-cray. i do like the cinematography but i'm remembering not finishing the book. it was making me cray-cray too. it seems to be about the unraveling of the world. i get that, but why's it gotta go on so long? it could have ended with that kid and the cat. it can't get much grimmer than that.
one thing about genocide is it draws a lot of attention. i'm learning more about israel and the u.s. israel's population is about the size of new york city, or connecticut and it has nuclear weapons and a massive military funded by the u.s. israel would not exist without the u.s. but palestine would. everybody who cares to know is getting to know what israel is about now.
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