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Howard Hughes and the Gooey Kablooie

The heat goes on, unabated, here in southern New England. The house is an oven. Day before yesterday, the temperature in the front parlor reached ninety degrees. If I've said that in an entry already, I apologize. It's sort of remarkable. I'm hardly sleeping, from the heat and the RLS and the anxiety. I took a quarter of a Seroquel last night, though I have pretty much stopped taking that shit. Not only did it help only a very little, it has me an utter zombie this morning.

Ugh.

No writing yesterday. In the face of the DNC, my resolve to maintain the news blackout failed, and I spent the day and night watching the live feed from the convention center. Cory Booker's "We will rise" speech was electrifying. I would vote for that man in a heartbeat. I'd vote for that man for president. Elizabeth Warren was grand in her savaging of Trump, and she comported herself well when "Bernie or Bust" fanatics tried to drown her out by chanting "We trusted you." The First Lady reminded me, again, how much I'm going to miss the Obamas and how fortunate we've been to have them for eight years.

From my Facebook, yesterday and this morning:

It is clearer than ever today that the revolution being called for by the "Bernie or Bust"/"Never Hilary" people clearly includes a willingness to burn this country to the ground if they can't have their way. So, whatever else their movement might be grounded in, it clearly does not number among its cornerstones either sanity or compassion.

~ and ~

The people who somehow managed to build Senator Sanders not into a presidential candidate, but into a full-on Messianic figure, a benevolent grandfather figure who would lead an economic and social revolution and somehow save them from all the complex ills of the 21st Century, I'm realizing that we can't reach most of those people. They have become cultists, fanatics, zealots. They've bought into something so hard and so blindly, with such a religious fervor, that not even the Senator can get through to them now. But those people are most certainly the vast minority among Sanders' supporters, and I'm sure he understands that, and we will reach the majority, those who have not already recognized the path forward. We have one hundred and four days to do that.

---

The worst part isn't that in the past two months I haven't gotten even half the writing done that I need to have gotten done. The worst part is that so much of that time has been wasted sitting at this desk, not writing, when I could have been Outside, enjoying the fleeting summer.

Later,
Aunt Beast

Comments

( 2 comments — Have your say! )
everville340
Jul. 26th, 2016 04:46 pm (UTC)
That is a brilliant picture of the sun breaking forth through the clouds.
Kiki Lang
Jul. 26th, 2016 08:25 pm (UTC)
The road to the Road.
My very first voting experience was not voting for the Gipper, and I've never not voted since. This election has bad smell to it, and I have a bad feel that the United State is going to become a Chinese curse: Living in interesting times. About a year ago, my nephew was drunk in Vagas, and in a drunken stupor, bet thirty five hundred on Trump. The odds so good, ten to one. My nephew said he won't mind losing the money, but if he wins, he move to New Zealand.
( 2 comments — Have your say! )