The other side of the world.
Sometimes I don't know how to feel. I suspect I'm crazier than the average human, but how is anyone supposed to feel? The world seems a study in contrasts. In the midst of loving my life, being with friends and all I've inherited, so much terrible shit goes down. How dare I feel lonely or sad or restless? How dare I not make the world a better place? How dare I drink and listen to music and go out dancing and check soccer scores and obsess about myself. Without the easy protection of a resort on the beach or a cold frosty drink, life goes on. If I pick up a book or a magazine - about something other than sports and fashion - and read, life goes on. Or I act recklessly, excessively and uncontrollably happy. Drunk and in love with myself and the space I fill. There is no wave that passes from my cannonball leap. No splash. Nothing but me.
I read this story on my flight to Mexico. I can only share the emotion with you by having you read it - painful, moving. (There's also long bland feature about the jaw dropping waste in financing the Bush vs. Iraq war here.)
Contrast the first and last pictures of the bus which carried Benazir Bhutto back to Karachi from her exile. Pakistan.
And finally, part of the reason we're limited in dealing with the fires in California is the war in Iraq. My thoughts are with all of you in both places. National Guard problems.
Actually, a PS. I wrote all that a couple days ago and didn't post it. Today over a lunch of eight dollar veggie burger and three dollar latte I read this tidbit from " Tree of Smoke":
"Night again, the insects are loud, the moths are killing themselves on the lamp. Two hours ago I sat on the veranda looking out at the dusk, filled with envy for each living entity—bird, bug, blossom, reptile, tree, and vine—that doesn't bear the burden of the knowledge of good and evil." -Denis Johnson