Well, life in the Upside Down continues to warp and woof, to mutate on a constant basis, always in surprising ways even when I am certain surprise is no longer possible. For the past few days, the skies of Denver have been this creepy pale dullness that looks like the photos of what the skies of Mars look like. Dead, lifeless, barren and forsaken. This is because a ton of the state is on fire. A ton of the country is on fire. And don't tell me this isn't due to global warming. Don't tell me anything about global warming, unless it's about how we need to change our habits right the fuck now. A bunch of greedy, lost fools have sold our planet for a fistful of dollars, and it sucks. We need to fix it, and that will be painful. Doable, but painful. That, too, sucks. But that's all I really care to discuss on the matter of global warming. At least for this paragraph.
I was talking about the sky. How strange it has become. How drab and dreary, like that Once Upon a Midnight Poe wrote of. And what really makes that sky so sad is that we all got to see blue skies for a bit, at the beginning of the lockdown. Blue skies, clear streams, birds singing. I dig that. I love that. Earth is this huge love planet, and all we did was pause our so very important business for like a month, and POW! that planet was reviving, recovering, refilling. I want more of that. Less smoke and sorrow, more life and joy.
Speaking of joy, I'm gearing up to direct a production of Little Shop of Horror. Which fills me with happiness, trepidation, and a desire to create something pertinent to the now. To right now. To a world of masks, protest, fire and ice.
Oh yes. The ice.
Yesterday, it was in the 90s here in the Mile High City. Today it's in the 30s. That seems a bit severe. A bit unkind. But undeniable. We now live in a world where the temperature can swing over 60 degrees in a day. Where is gets so hot in some cities that traffic pylons melt on the pavement, while not that far away, late summer tomatoes freeze on the vine before they've fully ripened.
Wow. I'm feeling like I might be veering towards the negative. And I don't want to do that. I don't. We have so much trouble right now. So much heartache. Time for heal. To put out the fires, bundle up the cold, and sing songs of love and laughter for our fellow human beings.
I am going to try and do just that. I write stories. I direct plays. I teach children.
And I play you songs like Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple.
Enjoy.
1 comment:
It was 118 degrees in L.A. a few days ago. That has never happened before. I much hotter does it have to get before people understand how bad global warming is?
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