Year One of #45 was a year of whispered words being spoken, amplified, then shouted out loud.
For months we watched this authoritarian authority work his daily campaign of tearing down years of cooperation creating a safe and healthy nation. The goals of capitalism are no longer whispered in think tanks, behind closed political doors, they’re shameless and obvious. Goodbye parks, goodbye clean air, goodbye healthcare, diplomacy, women’s rights, religious freedom, democratic process.
Yet some still love him, because he represents their dreams of being rich, of being powerful, of being untouchable, of being entitled and superior. He says he speaks for the people, but he fights for the powerful, the untouchable, the entitled and superior. The Deplorable.
But wow. We are in a crucible. We are duking it out. Fighting for what is dear. Hashtagging the hell out of social media, leaving no stone unturned. Everything is shouted, expressed like so much pus from the infectious wounds of greed, capitalism and patriarchy. Meanwhile the Earth herself struggles to fight the fever.
In the political heat, my writing career has been going around in circles, the muses having stepped aside for leadership, organizing, producing, teaching, healing, plus anger, exhaustion, and that floaty feeling of disconnection.
But here. I’ll be reading on Saturday, after the Women’s March. Come have some coffee, or some wine, and some food at the Octopus Literary Salon (where 3 short years ago I was invoking muses). Get the anthology online… it’s a fundraiser for justice programs, and the volunteered writing by notables is deplorably delicious.
4-6PM at The Octopus Literary Salon. Food, drink, and books available!
Are you going to a Women’s March, in Oakland or somewhere?
Here are some posters you can print… On the theme of THE BULLYING ANTIDOTE!!!!