Misery has gotten into everything, like a dust bowl.
My neighbor Jim gets into the elevator and says, with a stricken face:
“Did you hear what he tweeted this morning?”
I said I didn’t.
[Except I did.]
I smile a little, trying to deflect.
I should have asked who he was talking about.
I don’t think he would have laughed.
In reply to Tom DiFerdinando:
“Tom, I resonate powerfully with your statement, “It is next to impossible to overcome the emotional plague alone, because the emotional plague is a social sickness, not an individual one.” Just last night my adult son and I were exploring the source of our deep perpetual sadness, and after listening to a painfully shocking expose of the extent of pedophilia in high places of power, we realized that we cannot be whole while living in such an atmosphere, even when not knowing about it, or not knowing the particulars. The field of human consciousness is ill, infected with the despair, pain and fear of those who are suffering.
This in turn impacts our own emotional experience. We are part of a whole, and the whole is under assault.”
Truth Barrier comment section
TIME magazine asks on its cover: Is Truth Dead?
I wonder: Is Mercy Dead?
A small white plastic bag is stuck on a tree branch outside my window, near the projects. Every day I think it will have blown away but it never has. Will somebody climb up there and remove it eventually?
The trouble is: Everything turns out to be false, including the way we promised we felt about each other.
I keep thinking I need to tell the world that the media is made up of ghastly megalomaniacs but nobody would believe me.