IT'S GETTING HEAVY AND LIGHTER ALL AT ONCE

I wake up, and the world seems spiraling out of control. And I find life astonishingly beautiful and exciting. A new strain of the virus is here in Colorado and popping up all over the country and probably is everywhere already. And I am full of hope for the future. Bills pile up as I ponder the next big project to do on our house. Best of times hang with Worst of times. I alternate between episodes of The Big Bang Theory and Doom Patrol. Have I lost my mind? And if I did, is that necessarily a bad thing? Hard to say, authoritatively. I think avoiding authoriatatism is necessary is this Weimar Republic like time. Or is it this FDR/WPA time? Didn't those happen at the same interval? 

Today people are voting in Georgie, and who wins will determine who is in charge of the Senate. And this could have a lot of effect on how we as a nation deal with: The Corona Virus pandemic; Climate Change; the Ravaged Economy & ever growing Economic Divide; Systemic Racism; Immigration; and on and on and on. Also today, I am leaping into the New Year of Writing. Already got my morning pages done, read a full article in The Atlantic, and have work lined up for two projects: a musical and a screenplay. 

We live in a world where shit happens, good and bad, all the time. Maybe all those good and and bad things have accelerated a bit this past year, but it's always been like this, more or less. I mean, I don't think Dickens was making things up from some supposition about what might come to pass when he wrote the opening passage of Tale of Two Cities. Let's have that quote, shall we?

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

Yeah. That sums it up rather nicely, I think. I had to consider that last sentence a few times, but still, rather apt. I just am not one hundred percent sure I understand what being received in the superlative degree of comparison only means. If someone wants to leave a comment filling me in, groovy.

The duality of nature is something I have been hip to for a long time. Maybe growing up in an alcoholic household did that for me. I have always, to this very day, loved being alive. I do. This world is full of things that are mysterious and wondrous and numinous, and we should all dance in joy every time we awake for at least five consecutive minutes, speaking nothing but gibberish in odd tones. But I've also been keenly aware of sorrow, fear, and desperation. I awoke with that too, saw it in my mother's eyes each time my step-dad went past that invisible barrier to the world of lunacy, screaming, and smashing. It was part of the world that I danced for in my mind too. Not a nice part, but part of it nonetheless. 

Times are hard now. Times are always hard. And always miraculous. It might suck to live in this age of fear and loathing. We don't get to have family over for the holidays. I haven't seen a movie in a cinema for months and months. Theatre? Forget it. And yet, this is a time of history, or challenge, of thinking outside the box, making a name for yourself, rising to the occasion. Of taking the mantle of the Greatest Generation for ourselves, so that one day someone can write a book about us and make all our grandchildren feel vaguely inadequate. 

I am tired and energized. I am an electron, neutron, and proton. I am I, Don Quixote. 

And so are you.

Whatever happens today, in Georgie, in the over crowded hospitals, on the streets, I wish you joy and strength, knowledge and power, mischief and mayhem and law and order. 

Bring it, 2021.

Here's a song. It's Waiting for Superman by The Flaming Lips, live with the Colorado Symphony. 

WE CAN DO THIS, BUT WE'VE GOT TO BELIEVE, BE STRONG, AND NEVER GIVE UP

The news this past week have been pretty damn awesome. And pretty damn awful. Two vaccines. A light at the end of the tunnel. But the tunnel is full of danger, and not all of us will make it to the end. Thanksgiving is almost here. But we can't spend it with all the folks we'd like to spend it with. The stock market is up, but so are all of our bills. 

I do think we are near the end. It will be an horrific winter, and people we know will get sick. We ourselves might get sick. Some of us will die. 

And I wish I could sugar coat that. Say that no more deaths will occur that are way too early. That nobody will have long term health problems due to this virus. 

I also wish I could fly.

Maybe I can. But not in the way most people mean when they say they wish they could fly. 

I can fly when I listen to music. When I talk with my friends. When I make my wife laugh at something goofy I've done. When I write something that makes people cry. 

That's a super power, to be sure. 

But we got serious issues going on in the country and we have to remember, it ain't over yet, The Thin Man hasn't sung. 

Put it another way: We still don't tug on Superman's cape, spit into the wind, pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger, and you don't mess around with a global pandemic and pretend it's a hoax or overblown or not wear a mask.

We can do this. 

But it will take all of us. We need to figure out how to function in a divided nation. We need to get another stimulus package passed, immediately. If we have lame duck senators, we have to call them and remind them they are still in office until January, and have a responsibility to their electorate. We have to call our relatives who are freaking out and give them comfort and hope. We have to support local businesses anyway we can. 

We have to stop complaining so much about how Zoom sucks. 

I think we all know how it sucks. 

We need to take more walks in forests and parks. 

We need to listen to more music.

We need to read more books, recite more poetry to strangers, and howl at the moon.

And what the hell happened to the nightly howls? When and why did that stop? 

And what did we replace it with? 

I think, tonight, I'm going to howl again.

For those who have passed. For those who are suffering. For those who are afraid of what's still to come. For those who have lost their jobs. For those who are late on the rent. 

For my friends, family, and neighbors.

For all of us.

We can do this.

And we will.

Here's a song. It's Like a Song by U2.