It's raining. Finally and at last. It rained a little yesterday but not enough to fill the bird bath so this is good.
Oh lord. I feel so weary today. Didn't get to sleep until almost two. Twitchy hips and a new book by Brady Udall. The Lonely Polygamist. This is going to be a treat, this book. If you've never read his The Miracle Life Of Edgar Mint you've missed a good one. And in the library I found this new one and oh boy.
Georgia executed a man who may have been innocent. The bottom line for the death penalty for me is this- if it's wrong to kill, it's wrong to kill.
(I think it's wrong to kill.)
One of the reasons I am so weary is that in my dreams I had to clean an entire house and plan and present a play. Don't bother to try and figure that one out-I already have. But in the dream the house was one that hadn't been lived in for awhile and there was junk everywhere, just junk and more junk and old hamburger buns for god's sake and I couldn't find any detergent to wash the sheets or lightbulbs and people were coming to stay and the refrigerator was CAST IRON and there was an entire wardrobe of beautiful clothes that did not fit me because they were not mine and oh, no, we don't need to consult our Meanings Of Dreams for this one.
It's raining. I should be joyful.
I guess I am.
Jessie is coming home. I can hardly believe that. Birthdays are coming up. Time flies so quickly. There are hurricane lilies blooming everywhere. I helped kill a guy in Georgia with my tax dollars.
You know what? I get scared. So do you. Sometimes it all feels so heavy and so hard that it takes the strength of forty men and four hundred elephants just to get out of bed and do it and some people open their Bibles and try to find reason to live there and some people go to work and help one person at a time and find reason to live that way and some people get up because there is no alternative at all and there's a reason, good as any. Besides, eventually you have to pee.
I have no ending. There is no ending. It ends. Eventually. It ends.