death rattle part 1

the morning after trump was elected in 2016 i went in to work in a state of genuine surprise. the grandly presented intercept headline ‘THE NIGHTMARE PRESIDENT’ had not been what i expected to read that morning. i’d left the watch party and gone to bed with my 20 month old last night before the results came in.

my bosses were weepy. near hysterical. “we’ve been crying all night,” they told us. It was pretty normal for them to be xan’d out of their minds and running their mouths for hours about all kinds of insane dumb things, while we made disgusting strawberry cough syrup tasting chocolate truffles and dog biscuits for their retarded small business. a giant, near frisbee-sized IM WITH HER magnet loomed over the ganache fridge with like a charcoal portrait of clinton. my coworkers and i were polite and shared the sensation of fairly sincere surprise. but as soon as they left the room we laughed our asses off for a bit. mainly at the tears.

our bosses were a gay centrist couple who self described as “we would be republicans if we weren’t gay. haha! we’re Fiscal Conservatives.” (these were the people who wrote us checks for $5 as christmas bonus)

when trump was elected i felt energized, brightened, not full of any optimism but full of a glad clarity that now we could all finally just fight it out, now people would stop being so squeamish about everything that obviously had to be undertaken. that now all the hordes of people trying to drown anything they found unpalatable would be disarmed and scared enough to cut it out, and if not join in the need to work on specific things, would at least get out of the way. those were libtastic times, leading up to it, full of soft snitching crises and proto social media shaming attempts aimed at anyone who did anything other than sssssseeeelf caaaaare

because i didnt have childcare i couldnt go into the street that night, but in the coming weeks i was surrounded by people in my house and everywhere, wanting to do things together, interpret and act together w/ shared grief over dead and imprisoned friends, and a sense of manic vitality pulsing all the time while we watched closely the tidal wave of repression that was about to hit us.

so im remembering this all today because i knew on that day i never wanted to be like those delusional cowards shocked by the obvious, weepy, overcome with hand wringing despair. today its all gone tho… nearly all the people are gone, the sense of transparent necessity to fight, the sense of free clarity. it’s 100 degrees outside… it’s like there’s nowhere to go and no one to be with. when i found out it’s all over i didn’t cry… i did laugh–i laughed a lot a lot today– but then it felt like i was drunk.

after laughing things feel wrong, but it’s finally been effected on our world that there’s a strong conceptual separation between all of us, into our individual problems– now its nearly impossible to find terms for this sensation without it being overcoded with personal or worse, “mental health” terms.. Once I was in a park with a friend and the ground seemed to shake. it slid from side to side like a waterbed. no one around us reacted, but it turned out to have been an earthquake. it turned out to be real. i guess stuff is like that.

i was told that i came close to bleeding to death when my kid was born. 😉

the democrats very much did this, the more impossible it is to talk about it with people who are still going to want to funnel everything happening to us into blaming the other team and on their lack of funds or their lack of groveling subservient voters. that ppl arent scared enough of the other party. they are all in a cult

never tell a doctor or nurse the first day of your last period lie say you dont have any idea

theyll lie and tell you they can detect the difference between an abortion and a miscarriage but it’s not true there’s no medical way to do that never tell them anything

i woner what my crying IM WITH HER bosses will think down th line about those anti sodomy laws. probably theyll just move somewhere buy land in puerto rico or something

check out the ONO song I Dream Of Sodomy. one of the best performances ive ever seen–it ruled n made me cry real hard and to the end i think it should be obvious crying to music is legit though

cotton root is poisonous enough to make you sick enough to bleed a lot bear this in mind bear emoji

we’re all dying already so you HAVE to laugh!

the billboards terrorize us everywhere we go, me and my kid. i cant do anything about how likely it is she will asphyxy drown in anxiety in a few yrs because of that shit. im officially a bad parent for not keeping us in a bunker. if you paint over the signs i’ll literally have sex with you! i cant do it myself. there’s a song underneath everything made from empty cans of latex paint being ripped apart from strong magnets. I wonder if Bob Cassilly really was murdered like the youtube commenters insisted

“Blood looks cool,” someone correctly pointed out.

someone handed me a bouquet today when i picked them up from heat stroke flower farms. i love a big bouquet and we were surrounded by dust and machinery everywhere. i wonder if there is water under the asphalt at this point. remember sinkhole de mayo

in fact, moms are pathetic wretched people, it turns out. we’re like the crumbs in a couch. we can’t move- we can’t do anything but laugh and scream. what happens when you destroy consciousness? when someone’e eyes open when they’re asleep and they mumble dream nonsense in a sinister gutteral whine. redrum, redrum etc– the person u know is gone but they’re talking to u and moving around.

care crashes ARE funny. just the car part not the insides. bur i dont want ppl to suffer. too bad every1 bhind the wheel is all in a cult. as long as the whitecollar new yorkers have their xanax and their exhilarating sense of special purposefulness the rest of the world can get nuked for all they care.

it’s really hard not to bonk people in the face with raw turkey leg drumsticks–no one realizes this

if you’re alone you really can’t do anything except try your best to slut it up apparently. if you get hit on the head you become a sleeptalker and if you talk to other people it’s just a death rattle!