Hell in a

I thought I’d write a blog, as I haven’t in a while and my whole personality feels changed and like stars that aren’t allowed to live in space.

1. The fact that my blogging came to a grinding halt around the month of that Particular Election and then just gross weird sputters is not a coincidence.

2. I have not been on social media much. But everyone is done past hearing about this. I get on twitter sometimes to check in and sometimes post things about issues I care about.

I cared a lot about coming out day, and thusly said nothing. Paradox? Maybe. It’s a little confusing.

I went to the capitol and participated in some government enough to notice the futility of such things. Remember government? It’s REALLY hard to do government. The rules are always changing and if you want to do anything to make a difference you have to spend a lot of time researching stuff that they are trying to sneak past deadlines at the last minute in the dead of night and change at the eleventh hour. Nothing is sure and nothing is permanent. And the odds are always stacked. It takes lots of money and lots of time. That’s my take on absolutely every single issue ever that matters. Its all very crooked and not at all honest, seemly, or above board. It’s all dirty pool and immoral as hell. And nothing you want comes to pass except failure and evil triumphing. (not always, but hell….) And I’m sorry I just feel tired and cynical a lot now after mostly silently trying and just failing to make a damn bit of difference.

3. As usual, my breath could improve.

4. America as a nation is living on borrowed time. I have no idea if we can work out our differences here and survive as a nation. I don’t see an America as we know it even existing in fifty years (maybe less). The post apocalyptic worlds we acted out in my improv class during the summer intensive program I took felt eerie, like something cresting just over a possible horizon. And this probably is true in other nations as well, it just might look slightly cosmetically better or maybe way worse…. Or maybe other countries are probably also just kidding themselves and its all probably just a matter of time before everything goes to hell as humans are all shitty people to one another.

5. I tried to go on a diet, “for my health.” It didn’t go well. I’ll try this again next week. This has been a stupid year for food and me. This is a long series of dumb stories I’ll discuss later in life.

6. Back here at home, the only thing to wonder over is whether or not there will be a United States of anything at all, or whether it will be torn apart completely by warring extreme factions and then will descend entirely into anarchy. I’m not personally invested in any outcome–hoping only that as many humans as possible can continue to view one another with compassion and dignity and not break down into a state where we are hunting each other through the streets for food and sport. I hope if those days come, I am not marked as an enemy just because I’m not loudly present in some mob calling for heads and blood.

7. I have some seriously intelligent cats. Genius level. A lot of peopl THINK their cats and children are this level of smart. But mine actually are. They invented a cat language to talk to me, and their own games with complicated kitty rules. Make of this what you will.

8. I have not written any songs in well over a year, except for one in which I am sarcastic and talk about how corn is nasty. Because of my 😂vast😂 and diverse audience I shouldn’t link to it–as it has an Extreme Swear Word in it and I do try at times to be Seemly.

It feels frivolous to make music, like I should be making social commentary instead. Then I read my social commentary and think that my point of view is irrelevant and privileged.

9. I started doing improv, about six months ago. Only doing things that were entertaining and spontaneous and ready-made, DIY sorts of productions … only that seems real and relevant in these times. This is not the right way to think about the subject of improv at large…and is not the point of improv at all. The point of improv is fun and child mind…at least I think so.

I felt like soon we shall all be in roving bands of survivors and will need people with Art Memories. People who could call to mind dramatic form or the ways of storytelling or who could record quickly into any phone or tape or format or play/dance/act any collection of ragtag materials. Anything to tell a tale or song or some semblance of the way things were. The tellers of tales. As we sit by fires in whatever we can scrape together. Mourning the loss of all we were in the last days of our precious “civilization.” Sorry. That got weird. I’ll try again later. I’m crusty at this.

Also, everytime I try to do a thing these days I am interrupted often because these are the days of almost constant interruption. This is why you see less of me. It is as though I have forgotten I have a butt and cannot remember how to sit down!

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Hell in a

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