observations · racism · social observation · trauma · white nationalism · white supremacy

Notes to Myself in the New Year

I should write something. The month is nearly over.

I feel propagandized. Not relieved. Not empowered. Not convinced. Just chattered at.

Still hearing the name of the idiot. Still seeing pictures of him and his…wife. Is it wrong that every time I saw her I thought First Whore? The oldest profession really pays. Wonder who named it the oldest profession?

George Washington Carver was a crochet genius. I knew he painted, but he could make lace, do Irish crochet, make collars and cuffs, all without pattern or the ability to read. He picked up handicrafts, fancy work, before the age of 11. His works are on display at his museum in Neosho MO.

So many COVID variants. People just spreadin’ that virus around, helping it mutate, thinking it is their right to be foolish in a pandemic and take no precautions. People viewing us from without often say we only think of ourselves, never of people outside of this country. They underestimate our narcissism. We only think of our individual selves or of our tribe or clan. Our orbits of concern are mainly foreshortened.

Pearl S. Buck. So glad I started reading her work and very glad she was such a prolific observer and writer.

Never again read Jude the Obscure unless you love tedium.

New year. Feels a lot like the old one with a little less tension. Gotta worry, though, about whether or not a neighbor can be trusted. January 6 was a demonstration. You can’t expect to trust your colleagues, neighbors, the average Jane or Joe on the street. Gotta be color conscious. I really expected better of us in 1965. So much for expectations.

Biden is the second Catholic president. Let that not be an omen.