RMiddleton

I suggest that the United States needs to do much more than elect better people under the current constitution. A peaceful revolution is called for.

The right is right. Under the US constitution and historical tradition, the right is in keeping with American values. Liberals are wrong when we have said:

America is exceptional

America is the greatest country on earth

Bigotry, hate; and murder are not who we are as Americans

America values equality

None of the above are true. All of the above are wishful. Trump and his cronies are the heirs to the slave-owning founders, to Polk, to Jackson, to Jim Crow, to Woodrow Wilson, to FDR, to Nixon, to Reagan, and to the Supreme Court for all but a very few years.

The United States has never stood for equality. I'm not so much saying this in anger as with a clear eyed coldness. The nice words in the revered documents are lies. They are marketing materials. It's quite clear that the professions of equality are lies; simply look at the laws.

I will expand on this soon. I'm tired. Hugs!

I live inside my mind. I view my number one task as survival. Before I can do anything else well I must sustain myself. What am I? A consciousness in a body. But I think more accurate to say a conscious body. My senses supply information that I interpret using emotion, aided by memory.

I am sitting in the sun enjoying a recording of a violin concerto by Saint-Saëns as I write this. Why so I like the sound of this music? And the nearby splashing water that I can hear? Why do I dislike the sounds of loud motors, and shouting, and most human broadcasts?

I try to keep the election far from my mind. I'm a white man. If I wanted I could pass as straight. I fantasize myself organizing a meeting in which I, crying no doubt, say to a group of Trump voters: “I think of you as evil people. And I am scared of you. Why am I wrong to feel this way?” The responses that I imagine would be defensive, righteous indignation, and filled with factual errors they all learned from intentionally lying sources. And they would be demonstrating their own emotions in response.

If I think anything like this I just get stuck. It's been this way for decades. It's why “good whites” cannot reach our relatives, neighbors, and coworkers.

I can't get stuck. To go on I focus on the Saint-Saëns, followed by They Might Be Giants, and everything else I'm checking out from the library to keep my spirit afloat. James Baldwin. Poetry. Abolitionist history. A film about fascist Italy. Aretha Franklin.

I'm changing me. Change the world? Maybe tomorrow...

I love what I do so much. A snarketarian might say, “What the fick do you do? You have no daily job that produces income!” And that is true.

Here's what I do:

Now I'm waiting for a telehealth call from my pain doctor. Improving my physical condition is essential for me to do anything else. I'm happy to be working on this goal with help.

I'm talking to friends and new friends and neglected friends and physician assistants and neighbors and random folk — all with joy and respect. I'm not at my best every moment so I'd rate myself as spreading 93% joy. I see results in my effect on others.

I'm cleaning my house. A little every day. With joy. I'm keeping an assortment of plants alive. I'm inviting visitors over.

I'm cooking every meal at home, happily.

I'm walking and stretching every day.

I'm enjoying nature so much.

I'm celebrating human culture with books, videos, and music all free from the library. I'm so happy about that.

I may use equipment at the library to digitize some old family items. I feel good about that.

Is there more? What else is there?

I'm sharing my journey openly. I feel very satisfied with that evolution of my art practice.

---

What I'm not doing: feeling mad, sad, bitter, jealous, greedy, impatient, or bored.

I know how to be happy!

conversation excerpts between new friends from different worlds

Whenever he spoke of his home Starling grew so agitated that his slight, frail frame seemed vibrating, boiling within, ready to burst. His skin changed color! Not to the extent that the rock lizard visibly shifts its color, but significantly. Earthling was concerned.

Starling's pulse quickened, breaths grew shallow, tegument pigmentation intensified. He spat-spoke, “Living on a planet once teeming with life my species believed they were all that mattered. We thought we were the only intelligent creatures. Because we used tools, we said. Until we paid attention to all the others who also used tools! Then we had to find other reasons.”

“Here too,” our Earthling representative echoed his alien friend, in a tone meant to affirm yet calm. Agreeing not challenging is the way to encourage change, E. knew. With nonchalance: “If not tools, language, then it's emotion,” Earthling laughed wistfully, “And whaddya know? Other critters do all that stuff!”

“Yeah,” Starling snorted, still sulking but surprised at his genuine comfort in knowing his species wasn't uniquely arrogant. Surprised how quickly he felt some commonality — familiarity — with the Earthling. His anger faded only because his focus shifted to his host. Amiable, intelligent, admirable even. Still a little hard for Starling to look at. He must keep his shameful feelings of disgust a secret from his only hope for survival. He will work on these feelings on his own time, he decided. Earthling interrupted his pondering, or it may be more correct to say no time had passed at all.

“We did finally learn one legit thing that separates us from all other species on the planet.” He was waiting for Starling to be ready.

Resuming full attention, taking interest in what the Earthling had said, Starling asked, “Oh? What is it?” He wondered if it would hold true of his species as well, though he could never know for sure anymore.

“Our lives are a progression of doing one thing while thinking about another.”

Is this a joke, Starling wondered. His expression must have betrayed his thought, because E. added, “I'm serious! Of all the species on this planet mine is the only one capable of doing one thing while thinking something else. I don't know how they proved it, it isn't my field. Something about object permanence I think and distractability, attention disorders...” he faded off.

Starling looked directly at his companion. Damn if I don't like this guy! “I still don't think I understand what you're staying.”

“Oh that's all right, neither do the scientists. But they definitely believe it. They are conducting additional tests. It's unending right?”

He's laughing at me. With me? Starling wondered. I think he's smiling. Hard to tell. Do they even have the same emotions and language use? So far it feels like yes but... S. knows he is completely at sea. Asea. Aspace.

“Live in the moment,” the sages have said. “Be as the creatures of the sea and air, with no worry burdening them down.”

“Damn. Yes, I see.”