Defeated

I am grateful for the 90 minutes when I am busy trying harmonize breath, movement and focus, but it would be a pretty fat lie to tell you that it carries over to the other hours of my day and my evening these days. It is not the holiday hallucination that affects me since that has bypassed me for almost 3 decades. I even was kind enough to realize that it was very okay to thread the moonday into thanksgiving, then do one of the David Swenson alternatives on Friday while marinating in 3 different kinds of grape varietals and the head thumping that combination produces if you happen not know about that. What has me feeling despondent and disheartened is that I acknowledge being ticked off, no-truly angry at finding out the shooter in Colorado Springs terrorizing Planned Parenthood, and the shooter who terrorized the Church in the Carolinas get to sit in the back of the squad car. and that the  teenage Daquans, Travons, Michaels, and Tamirs who most urban middle school teachers or other members of their community could easily communicate with, are shot point blank without an ounce of compassion. I am actually angry that cops actually feel compassion sometimes, how fucked up is that? My brain is so tired of blaming the GOP, the NRA, the Media, The KKK, FOXNews and whoever else is an apologist for our barbaric culture. It does not do any good and it all starts feeling as inevitable as  hazardous weather. So sorry that I cannot get Alfonso Cuaron’s film Children of Men out of my mind whenever I think of our collective near future.

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3 thoughts on “Defeated

  1. I feel you. I can’t even bring myself to read the stories, much of the time. I’ll realize there’s been a news event when I see a bunch of tweets referencing something. I look at the headlines only.

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    • Most people know I don’t do asana to impress myself or lol someone else. I do it so I can use what makes me stay in a challenging pose for when I am outside of that room and off the mat dealing with the nasty. Despondent that I don’t grab those tools when I’m not in there. I read today how one person interviewed said that his girlfriend had seen a biker and two other people shot last week in CS and she cried. This time she was near planned parenthood when it happened but she did not cry because now “she’s a veteran”. Heaven help us when we all become veterans. >

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      • I certainly had a small touch of PTSD after being the last one to see “the tortured guy” conscious, in the old, hovel building back in New York Shitty… When my friends Gina & Danny showed up to join me in martinis at our (of course closed) old favorite Telephone Bar, I was literally crying into my drink, like a cliche. There was a man who’d been checking me out before I started weeping. He probably thought I was crying over some man, but no.

        Anyway I just try to do the best I can in my very, very small circle of people around me, and I love my cat. That’ll have to do.

        Liked by 1 person

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