Except I guess my life is here--or at least I 'd better start thinking that way, because feeling as hollowed-out as I do now is no life. At least I have a roof over my head. Some residents of New Orleans still don't have that. The people of south Lebanon certainly don't have that. Hell, there are tens of thousands of people in this country who, shamefully, don't have a roof over their heads on a daily basis. So, dear diary, let us rise above self-pity, at least for tonight.
Meanwhile the ridiculous, the sublime and the stupid/scary continue to call for attention, preventing that turning-inward of self that feels like escape but is not:
What global warming? Giant yellow-jacket nests may be the result of changing climate.
What global warming? New coal-fired plants to increase greenhouse emissions by 10%.
(How many days until the fall election?)
The sublime:
Got to see baby loggerhead turtles being released at the beach. Just a second after touching the sand they were crawling toward the water as fast as their flippers would go. They were, quite simply, beautiful. Only one in a thousand will make it to maturity.
Life goes on, fucked-up as it is. At least for turtles.
(crossposted to/from here)
