Things Have Changed

The world I see today is not the same as the world I saw three days ago. Before, I was just terribly depressed at life and death and terror for so many millions of people. And I was frightened more than I have ever been for the future of this Earth. Nine more months of this man and his cohorts seems like an ever expanding eternity which we cannot hope to interrupt.

But the past three days have obscured these feelings, feelings that I admired in myself, of outrage that I could vent through my blog and into the ether. Feelings that would bring me either friends or enemies.

The mood that overwhelms me now is one of being unable to participate, of having no level ground on which to meet either friend or foe. For the past three days I have been walking up to my neck in a pool of slime, my feet unsupported by the deep mud underneath. I want to wipe it off my arms and back into the pool.

This sex story is everywhere, on all TV news, on the front pages of most, if not all, newspapers, and on talk and comedy shows. It has engulfed me by its very presence everywhere, and I cannot find my way out of the swamp. There is nothing about it that threatens me, so I cannot defend myself. As I said on my previous blog, my heart aches for the families involved, but I have no weapons with which to protect them or salves to soothe their souls.

The obsession of those who feed their basest instincts through tales of the troubles of others is too overwhelming to overcome in this age of information, and by their numbers they rule.

Oh, God, I wish I could go back to my days of rage and fear! I want to put myself out there on my blog and say, “Here I am! Come and get me!”