Category Archives: democracy

Grief sculpture, Nazis, and Vote

I’m sharing pictures Maggie sent of the sculpture she mentioned in recent comments. It’s 12 inches long. The artist: Beverly Thomas. Apparently Thomas doesn’t have a website but her gallery info is listed further down. Below is what Maggie, a sculptor in her own right by the way, had to say about the piece.

In other news. I looked out the window at 6:02 and couldn’t see the moon. A total eclipse of the Blood Moon seems portentous on Election Day, wouldn’t you say?

K has gone to the office, so Finn and I will make our loop alone. We did yesterday too because of a business call which gave me the opportunity to listen to the sixth episode of Rachel Maddow’s newest podcast, Ultra. Holy shit. Did you know that in the 40’s there was a Nazi plot to overthrow our government? Not just Nazi sympathizers, including in Congress (which would be shocking enough), but a Nazi spy here on our soil and actual Nazi propaganda from Hitler’s government being distributed through congressional offices to constituents.

My Tuesday morning Indivisible call is cancelled today. I call us The Seven Sisters now by the way. Two of us are out at the polls helping with ballot correction or oversight — one in Georgia and another in New Hampshire. A third has been working the phones for North Carolina. The rest of us have been writing Postcardstovoters. Whatever else happens today, I am proud of these women and honored to call them friends.

78 degrees when I snapped this
Texting with Deb when I shot this. It was warmer HERE than in Georgia!
It just keeps getting more interesting!

Keep the faith! I’d say See you on the other side but results will be a while in coming (she said with a veneer of calm). I remain optimistic.

Marti’s ritual candle. Shared with permission.

The demise of twitter

People smarter than me are observing that the only way Elon Musk’s actions make any sense is if his game plan is to dismantle twitter. Then there’s how he probably means to court the right and China, which makes his “incompetence” look like something else altogether. Even if his massive ego and whack-job decisions were ONLy a distraction a week before what are arguably the most important elections of our lifetimes, that would be bad.

Twitter for me has mostly been a place to glean news. I read some of the linked articles, but mostly I’m looking for the summaries and opinions of the super-smart and well-informed. Former prosecutors (Andrew Weissman, Harry Litman, Joyce Vance), former FBI agents (Frank Figliuzzi), lots of Black commentators, Allison of MuellerSheWrote. I come to the news through their takes and in almost real time. It’s an absolutely perfect venue for someone with ADD.

Without the granular observations of some of these experts, I would have given up on trump ever being held accountable. So many have. But they haven’t and they know how to read the tea leaves better than I, so I haven’t. Do you know how critical this is to my mental health?

K. can’t understand why this loss upsets me so much. He’s not on twitter. But you know, it’s the West’s largest public square and many journalists, writers, medical professionals, and politicians have relied on its reach. And poof?

I see some are setting up alternate accounts on other apps. Mastodon seems popular. Right now it is beyond my capacity to set up an account there. Today I have to remember to archive my twitter account. That will task me enough.

I hate this. I just hate this.

And to be powerless to yet another narcissistic wealthy asshole? Really? I spend a fair amount of time considering how Musk’s brand of megalomania differs from trump’s. Mostly I notice that Musk tweets like an eighth grader — the one in the class that absolutely no one likes. Such a jerk. So sophomoric. Made all the worse by his obvious belief that he’s funny, incisive, and clever. NOT.

This is so distressing.

Adding space

I used to work bigger more often. This smallish tower quilt was getting a rest pinned to the back of another quilt and I decided, after looking at it for a day, that I liked it with a surround of brown.

I went looking downstairs, fully expecting to have to make a substituon, but I found the very cloth!

Bigger surround wd allow yellow roof. Yeah or nay?

It is going to be hot today. Dog walk was sweaty. K has his five-year colonoscopy midday and of course he needs a ride. Because of the Covid numbers, I will wait outside. Hope there’s a patch of shade.

And below find yesterday’s collage results (some of them). Feel free to skip if you’re on Instagram!

This is Paris Collage Collective visual prompt for the week
This one is not a part of the series
Look for the fedora. It represents the rise of theocratic surveillance. The birth collage speaks for itself I hope.
Original birth collage made in 90’s, when I was, you know, giving birth.
One of the weird residual attitudes of having been raised Catholic is a lasting affection for all things Mary. In my universe, she is allied with the Divine Feminine and not Christianity.
Mary’s hand is a helping hand.
Yes, that’s Jeremy Irons. One layer here is another paper collage featuring the actor and paper doll losing her head.

Morning of Surprise Hearing

“I wonder if it’s possible to will myself into spontaneous combustion.”
Aleyna Rentz, from Cincinnati Review

That was the prompt for this piece of writing

Charred bones hold a certain
appeal. A ravaging by fire
before crumbling into the dirt of
death.

Malva up the street bloom
in the palest of pinks. And now
hosta send up the sturdy
stalks of their flowers. July,
this July coming, is still familiar
to them in a way to me
it is not.

Hair shooting out of my scalp
transformed into poison darts
would more clearly show
the neighbors who I am
than the little waves, nods,
the purse across the chest,
holding phone and dog treats
as if the old rules of communication and reward still apply.

The house remains standing. The grass
grows in the fits and starts
indicative of shade. This morning
the dog sat on the deck planks
still wet from last night’s rain. He
was listening. Dogs are always
listening.

Would it help to shave my
head? To craft an embroidered
badge saying I’M DONE or WAKE UP?
To make visible the roiling
disappointment, so roiling,
so disappointed as to render the
words useless.

Old styles of rebellion will not
hold. Saving democracy is
not a style decision, as much as
we might like it to be.

Revelation after damning revelation
and STILL we wonder: will it matter?

We’re talking a femoral bleed.
Grasping around to find
a tourniquet, placing the life-
saving band around the body
but forgetting how to tie a knot.

“No July 4 for me this year,” say
some, while many others have
never had much to celebrate about
our so-called independence, our
so-called freedoms.

A flawed past does not
condemn us to tyranny. Please, someone,
make magnets saying that so I can put
them eye-level on the fridge, linking
hunger and hope and reason.

We don’t forget to eat, so
why should we forget to dream big?
To believe in possibility?

The squirrels chip at the air
with their throats. I used to think
it was the cardinals.

Somewhere, someone mows a
lawn. Somewhere, someone gets
water off a truck because lead
contaminates their water. Local
jack hammers signify home
improvement. Federal jack
hammering comes in the form
of 6-3 opinions. They
are blasting away at basic assumptions,
at long-held rights, at
the beliefs and needs of the majority — at

their own jurisprudence.

Who do you talk to in the
still of the night? Some nights
it is the ghost of my mother.
Other nights it is my own
nervous system. Sometimes
my children show up as absence
and silence and that keeps me
awake longer.

Not all loss is national and
collective.

I have my snacks ready
for the next set of revelations.
A friend is coming to sit by and
watch with me.

How we connect now matters more than ever.

Last night the sky blazed
orange. Chips of light between
maple and beech trees like mosaics.
It’s hard to remember the world
when you are perpetually walking
between kitchen and living room,
bathroom and bed. COVID, anyone? Or should I say: COVID for EVERYONE!

The world as defiled. The
world as holy. I don’t need
to shave my head to show
how my heart is trembling.

*. *. *.

This was written to a prompt in my Tuesday Amherst Writers and Artists workshop — the last until mid-August. The prompt was the Rentz quote above which appeared in a piece titled The Land of Uz. Cincinnati Review, Fall ’21.

The photo of Hutchinson was taken from a PBS website, but it is everywhere. I ran it through a filter in the Prisma app.

P.S. if you look carefully at the fairy-lights-photo, you will see Finn behind the glass door.