May 31, 2020

It's shortly before 8:00am. I've been up since 3am. I woke up from a dream in which I was laying in bed next to my girlfriend and I tell her, youtube is haunted. The idea sounds funny at first, but the deep worry in my gut says that this is something to be considered seriously. The internet is full of hungry ghosts, spooks, and trolls; and there are other spirits, some malevolent, some not. I begin to consider this, lying in bed. But my mind wanders elsewhere.

I hear a familiar chanting and the beating of a skull drum.

I hear a woman's voice. But I will not repeat here what she said. Then I saw the face of the ram-horned man, Aries.

I live in Seattle. Yesterday there was a protest downtown over the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis. There have been protests in nearly every major city in the country. At 5:00pm yesterday, the mayor and emergency services put out an alert that there was a 5pm curfew.

Now I don't know what to do. I don't like crowds. I don't like mobs. I support the cry for justice. But I see that there is so much more mixed along with this cry for justice. There are so many people who just want to see everything burn; I can see this destructive impulse in myself and in others.

So, I guess the question is, now what? I really don't know what to do. I am underslept—fried. I'm no good in these situations. I've lost the nerve that I had when I was a soldier. Or maybe I never really had any nerve. I don't know.

Last night, my mother sent me a text message. She took a picture of my father. He got a much needed haircut. He is happy and smiling. Behind him, on the entertainment center, there are pictures of the family, a a cross that cleverly doubles as the Christian sign of the fish, and the TV I bought him almost exactly one year ago back when I had a job and did not need to rely on my father to pay my bills. He is wearing an olive/OD green shirt that says in bold, all caps letters, ARMED AND DANGEROUS.

Knowing my father, the back of the shirt says something to the effect of: ARMED with the knowledge of Christ and DANGEROUS to Satan the evil tempter of this world.

I find this infuriating. I send my mother, as politely as I can, a message saying that I find the shirt insensitive and that we are in the middle of a national crisis. She responds saying that she didn't know, that they had been busy. But her excuse isn't enough to bring me any sense of peace. I sit down, frustrated. Overwhelmingly frustrated.

I open my computer. I inevitably check the news again. I really can't take it. I slam my computer shut and toss it across the room at the couch;—it lands safely.

I immediately regret my tantrum. But I am still deeply frustrated.

My parents are strong, MAGA Trump supporters.

And I have a sincere hatred, for Donald Trump. It is a silent, impotent hatred.

I am not a revolutionary calling for blood on the streets. But I think I have an idea of how that starts, and I would rather things did not come to that. But things don't seem to be getting any better.

Then again, the apocalypse is always just around the corner. Always.

I'm getting tired of doing nothing more than reading books.

I'm considering buying a broken lawnmower and fixing it up.

My head isn't on straight today.