A week of bad dreams, fighting my way out, and waking to find them on the news. I hate it. The soldiers in Niger—what the hell?
The cap on refugee admittance has never been so low, possibly excepting 1917.
A little girl chokes on her milk and is thrown away.
Puerto Rico may just as well be Mali.
Teen pitches a rock across an overpass bridge and kills a passenger in a car below.
Climate change. Little more to say.
Sears booted Whirlpool. For anyone familiar with my corporate career, ha!
#metoo swept the nation. I take this as a good sign. The army remains and it can move to restore justice. No, not that much. We can undo some damage at the ballot box, but it will take forever.
I went out today, just for a haircut. A relatively unnecessary haircut, except that hair does not grow in scar tissue, and I have a scar that starts in the middle of my forehead, crosses my skull to the nape of my neck and terminates in front of my ear. There they are, chunks of hair opposing each other across the scar. I can’t fix it, just keep it tidy.
It’s raining today. My neighbor told me the “suit” inspection begins at one. I responded I would go out and pull the chain to start the rainbow. The suits need to make their own happiness.
In another lifetime I took pictures. Last night I transferred several thousands of pictures to a new 64 gig drive. I may never look at them again. I need to do a reorg on this old computer, and start again.
It’s fall; here is some color.