pre-flight nerves, pre-flight smoothie. after 911 i didn't fly for 20 years. my body is basically healed from my fall. i'm ready to fly again.

 i wake up on olive time, before the starlings, before sunrise. in the lull before flight. i think of everything going on in the world i can't comprehend. i think of being canyon-side, in a time particular, in a place of likeness unlike the incomprehensible world.

 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.

 A time always comes when a lost populace turns to simple ideas, the cunning brutality of strongmen. In us they find an outlet for their resentment, an escape from their mortifying sense of impotence, a sudden miraculous hope of reversing their unsatisfactory destiny.

Mussolini

 There's something disturbing about Mahmoud Khalil. He says he hates protests, and hemmed and hawed about the fragmentation of the free Palestine movement and why he didn't go to protest with everyone at the UN. Maybe he's been scared by the ziostate. 

I wrapped Olive in a pink towel like a baby and trimmed her front claws. Happy Equinox.

 

 you can heal but if you heal you will be changed. healing is like being translated and still residing in the original. my lip feels strange to me, though the scar is almost invisible, it's different inside, and i wonder if anyone will notice the difference. it's different on the inside, but you will still be the same odd human being.

To be an effective taker one must look like a doer. 

Makenna Goodman, 

Helen of Nowhere

Maybe the problem is we're raised to be takers, though we say to ourselves we're just doing our own thing, and even our way of giving is another form of taking, and so we raise more takers.

 

 Sunday morning, reading Archipelago, listening to the starlings. Unknown language sounds like song. If you wish you can translate. "All there is and all there was and all that ever will be." 

 I don't think the American and Israeli actions in Gaza will ever be forgiven by the world. I think they will live on in infamy. And so, perhaps in the end, to put a mildly positive light on this, Hamas, which set out on October 7th to elevate the Palestinian issue to the top of the global agenda, has done so. It may be cowering in tunnels, but in the world of ideas and propaganda, it has won. 

Chas W. Freeman 

 What does it say about the effectiveness of the UN if a single state, comprising well under 5% of humankind, is able to thwart the clearly stated intention of the other 95%?   

Helena Cobban

Just World Educational

The UN was supposedly founded to prevent or stop genocide. Did the UN ever stop a genocide? No, it never did. The genociders run the show.

 Genocide Joe B. may be about done with this world, but the world is not done with Genocide Joe. As long as there is capitalism and manifest destiny there will be one genocide following another. You don't hear much about Joe anymore, but the genocide is still live-streamed every day.

 I saw a sidewalk chalk angel when I went to see Trudy, but I didn't get a picture of Trudy. She was snoozing in the common room during exercise class. I saw Aurelia cleaning her room and asked how she seemed. She laughed and said she calls her Trouble, and Trudy likes that. She's a rebel. 

 The whole blessed world is antifa. The whole blessed world is Palestine.

 

following on a talk with my sister, i do feel a shift in consciousness, but is it wishful? is it thought projection? will it save us? am i even now in my right mind? even the experts don't know. it could easily be getting worse, as it ordinarily happens when we say it couldn't be.

i'm not a prognosticator. i want only to consider the feeling. and the feeling is consciousness, and the feeling is consciousness is real, and the manufactured reality may soon collapse, and we with it, but naive as it may sound, in terms of world-building, consciousness will carry on. i think it's for the feeling.

 What's the future? It feels like the past. But it's going to be different this time. I don't know how different, but different. It could be worse, we kept saying. We don't say that now, of course. What could be worse than fascism,  international terrorism and genocide? What's the future of the final solution? It's unthinkable, it's clear, it's nuclear, it's final, it's unspeakable, it's implied.  

 This is all there is, you might say, for all we know, this is all there is. For all we know. The world is not objective. We're in suspension, you know. We live in between what we know we do not know and what we do not know, and may never know, until it's over for us, and we won't be here to speculate and observe, and be seen, we won't be seen, or recalled, and somehow, mysteriously, the world will go on without us.

 what are you thinking when you look out the window? death? but wait. look at me. i'm alive, and you, you're alive. we're looking at each other through a little window in a fire door. this could be all there is. everything beyond this, out there, could also, like this, be all there is.

 i told k. i would be there in the quantum nonlocal way, but maybe i'll be there bodily too. i wonder how long my teeth will last. they were saved by george, but nothing is simply saved but has to keep being saved every day. the mystery is nonbeing. do words make real? words may be the only body we have left when we go. they may disperse like a crowd, or clouds. i did have the distinct feeling when rose died she was going somewhere, as though nonbeing was a place. i'm thinking of neil young's everybody knows this is nowhere. we always think we're going somewhere until we're gone. the revelation is we knew it all along.

 It's hot and sticky and the air is webbed by flying spiders. I wonder how they get up into the airstream from my face. I bid them godspeed. It's a funny time of year. It's a strange season. People have an impossible task determining what's true, most of the time. We know the government serves the war machine and lies to us all the time, more and more absurdly and outrageously, while they kill and kill for land and money. We know that much. We know democracy is in truth a global criminal enterprise. Anyway I was just going to ask, is this a preying/praying mantis, or what?

 Down below the captured park emits the sound of screaming earth moving machines. It's as if the dirt itself were screaming. It reminds me of the screaming trees and the frantic birds scattering.

 Netanyahu's wheedling protests claiming he did not kill Charlie Kirk strongly indicates the whole world thinks he did. His reputation precedes him. 

 There's a horrid screeching coming from the Obamachron. 

 1st ride after fall. i walked up and down stairs no problem, and i had a smooth ride to the library and pebble beach, around the promontory and home. my only problem is i saw a bunch of kids getting in the water and my wounded knee is unready for swimming. 

there are signs for saving pebble beach, and some are ripped off. the same people who hack at trees? 

i'm happy to be healing though, and happy to be alive. i know someone who's dying, and i'm keeping vigil, sending love, from many miles away.

 We expect more violence from a desperate genocidal empire in decline.

 i feel lucky with birds. olive and i heard a call from outside the window. olive's eyes opened wide, and i ran softly to the fire escape with my camera. then i went to the washtub room behind the bird. someone was in the storage room next door talking on the phone, and the bird was disturbed. i didn't want to disturb the bird, i was just drawn by the beauty, entranced.

 i often feel invisible, and at the same time, awkwardly present. not with my cat. i don't want to know about evil, but i'm learning about how it pervades society, causing massive trauma, dissociation, and death. it's so much more than feeling like people are looking right through you. dissociation renders you invisible, and that's what the genocidal ruling class wants.