ill it? I don’t know. It seems like all of my circles have cracks in them.
It’s a fight these days to keep them from breaking apart. I’m resilient — a word that all New Orleanians hate — but sometimes enough is enough.
I mourn for all the victims of mass shootings. I mourn for my homeland. I mourn for the victims of our continual street shootings. Today, I mourn for a friend who lost his wife of thirty plus years last night.
What do I say to all of these people? Sorry doesn’t seem to cut it. Music doesn’t seem to help. Making pictures might help. It used to. I suppose I should take most of my clothes off and go outside. And, take pictures. No. I’m not turning into a nudest. Summer arrived. It’s 152 degrees out there. And, 900% humidity.
All I know is that something has to counter all of this sadness.
Normally, art or music or something in the universe would reach out. I think all is weary. We have been on a long road. We are tired. We need a break. We are running through the killing fields. I’m starting to see ghosts.