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Friday, Trump, Mom

Today and tomorrow (she was officially born at midnight) would have been my mother's 88th birthday.  Or they are her 88th birthday, really, regardless of the fact that she's been dead since sometime between her 67th and 68th birthdays.

For the last part of its nuclearity, our family lived on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, which the Governor (and former Baltimore mayor) (Wm Donald Schaefer) once famously referred to as a "shithouse".  I'm thinking of that today, of course, cuzza Trump's "shithole countries".  I like that he said that, though.  I like that it made people on TV last night say (figuratively) "fuck it" and acutally (literally) say the word aloud, "shit" part and all, and NPR's apparently saying it aloud too (with mandated warnings ahead of time and maximum one usage per story).  I like that he's not gonna get away with pretending he didn't say it.  Even though he's still gonna get away with what he gets away with while he gets away with it.

Somebody on Twitter (whom Ken Jennings follows) said "Genius. Until today, if you Googled 'Trump' and 'shithole' all you got were hotel reviews."

Tomorrow morning's the Saturday morning rehearsal for chorus.  Last time I was still on the board and had to get there early, and was bringing a bevy of breakfast items.  It's nice just to be a citizen again.  My spirit wants me to aim at being more just a dues-paying okay/mediocre citizen, vs. always aiming to contribute in multiple ways.  I certainly won't be the first to dial back on the degree of involvement.  I wish leadership had more of an attitude of facilitating the community and fun and member-supportive aspects of the experience, plus responsible transparency, along with the fiscal & personnel management and the practical considerations of rehearsals and performances.  But I didn't do any good at all in effecting a shift that way.

The weather's weird today, with a sudden return to cold and freezing rain 'n' snow, after the weird quick warm-up.  They let us come in late to work, and I'm going to be leaving before the anticipated evening rush hour mess.  Definitely a wintery winter this time.

Watched the Baltimore weather.

10" of snow in Salisbury--- hard to imagine.

It's weird to see someone standing in front of the Maryland map, talking about things happening there.  Three main anchor points I have there, and a dozen smaller ones.

When I was back in Baltimore on a trip maybe a decade ago, it was especially surreal to be in the Giant Food at the Rotunda, a distinctive atmosphere and such a part of my everyday life back there.  Some of the workers were the same older women who'd been there when I frequented the place a dozen years earlier.  But the weirdest was probably when I stopped for gas at a gas station that was on my little commute between the community college and more than one of my apartments.  It was just after I'd cross the Jones Falls.  Standing there, I spaced out, and realized I really coulda just been transported in time.  It was just like I was on my way home from work.

So I got on Google streetview just now to try to find it, and those streets.... those row houses.   Some of the nicer ones that I liked to imagine living in someday.  And then I looked at the 7-11 Girl 7-11, and, just up the street from there, past what was the police station in that John Waters movie Cry Baby, the Hampden laundromat building my ex lived in after we moved apart.  It's a salon now, that laundry place.  Ha.  Surely there's a serious limit to the gentrification that can happen in Hampden?

I can't spend hours "driving" around Google streetview Baltimore, but, hey, I could spend hours "driving" around Google streetview Baltimore.

It's tiring, the ongoing arcticity.

Like, arctic air.  Arcticity.  May be a word.  Is now if wasn't before.

Yeah, I'm all yawny, despite getting a good chunk of sleep.  And yesterday afternoon I *so* was ready to snooze off at my desk.

We had a Tuesday evening chorus rehearsal last night, in the sanctuary.  Something that smelled a lot was being done downstairs.  I decided I probably will stay offstage and not participate in Love Potion #9, which should be easy enough, the way the show is structured.  It's mostly cuz I just don't wanna be one of the starting-kissing-everyone-in-sight people, and we've gotten as many tweaks to that lyric as they'll allow.  (It makes it worse, to me, that the director recently decided on a sudden change in volume to a whispery piano when the protagonist starts kissing people--- it was presented as being for dynamic variety, but it comes off like he [yes it's a he POV] knows he's doing something wrong and is doing it anyway.)

The other benefit of sitting out the song is that I don't have to refine my memorization of it.  Happily, we have relatively few songs to learn this time.  This is good cuz it's been extra cluster-fucky, in more ways than one.

Seems like the main thing in my mind for the rest of the week is the hunkering down and minimizing time outside yet taking care of the dog's need for relief and thing-smelling and exercise best I can.  We'll probably do a fair amount of fetch from one end of the living room to the dining room, and vice versa.  And going outside will be a little like the astronaut thing, with special duds and keen awareness that it could kill ya, what's out there, if you don't pay enough attention.

Sort of an unfortunate reality for one's hypervigilance and anxiety, I reckon.  Like a paranoid person having an occasion of someone actually out to get that paranoid person, at least a little.  Yet it's nice to have amped-up gratitude for simply being inside a heated structure.  Shelter against the cold, not as some metaphor but in itself, raw and fundamental and real and animal-basic.

Meanwhile, it's hard not to notice a string of whacko Trump tweets.  And I've got a potential awkwardness with my fellows that involves my physiological limitations and butts into crappy body-shaming stuff, and loved-one realities that feel shitty, especially when fat's in the equation.  It's like there's no escaping being reminded all the freakin' time (speaking of exhausting) of how fat's regarded by by-far-most folks in my world, in this country, etc.

I think, yet again, of the Golden Rule.  The Golden and so often unobserved Rule--- it really is a fabulous Rule.  Perhaps I shall meditate on that in coming frozen days, as well as the concept of avoidance as the root of many problems, which is already kickin' around in me.
winter house


Postcard of the Day

(a feature involving a postcard on a day)

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For another postcard thing, see
my old postcard poems tumblr or
its handy archive.

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Many posts are friends-only; livejournal "friend" me and tell me who you are if you wanna read.


"What was once thought cannot be unthought."

-- Möbius, The Physicists


"The moment of change is the only poem."

-- Adrienne R.


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