“This shit is too weird for words.” “Like sci fi.” “As the stomach turns.” “So surreal, seriously.” “Its Like a bad dream.” “Hard to get my head wrapped around this…”
Those were the snippets/phraselettes that zipped through my brain as masked daughter and I snaked our way through Trader Joe’s (Aldi’s foster child, originally birthed by grocery genius Joe Coloumbe back in the sixties, if you’re interested google him) to pick up real food for the week and impulse snacks for round the clock weekend Netflix bingeing.
Between you, me and anyone reading over your shoulder, I find masks incredibly annoying since no matter what I do my glasses get so fogged up (and yes I’ve watched the YouTube hacks) that wherever I actually am, I’m seeing through London fog during the era of coal burning stoves, i.e. I can’t see shit. Even so I wear this protective face covering because not only am I of “that” age but I also I am of the belief we wear them to protect others. I am also seriously considering getting a seeing eye dog so I can see where the hell I’m going when wearing the damn thing.
So why the surreal thoughts? It’s not just the fog that’s making me question what is before me. Really, don’t ya just sometimes wonder (besides the obvious) why the hell things are the way they currently are? Or if what we are witnessing is really real? It appears in my mind’s eye we may have stepped into one of those Sci-fi/fantasy/time unraveling books I’ve been reading of late.
Never. Never. Never. In my most immense, sky’s the limit and mind-altered creative imagination would I have come up with the crazy-ass-bull-elephant-excrement, the constantly changing, ever warping drama of mass proportions which continues to unfold before our bewildered (and my, foggy) eyes.
Within this ever changing traumatic news landscape we are carefully keeping six feet away from fellow shoppers which does little for anyone to process the collective distress in a healthy manner. I know I could use a big hug. You? Thought so.
I have been sorely tempted to scream hysterically “why the fuck aren’t we all dressing up like superheroes, storming the White House, dragging Trump and his minions out of there, all while launching soggy fruit loop grenades at them?” But then I have thankfully realized that sensible humans don’t use soggy cereal as a means to effect change, even if all this is cereal-istic, though superhero outfits might seriously aid our cause. Why? Because our world is flippin’ nutso right now! Let’s embrace it.
Oh Salvador Dali please come back. Only you might help us to make sense of the world in which I and others currently reside. Why just the other day I read that the Big Blini of Russia, aka ole Vlad the Bad has been Putin out contracts on our US military men and women. What the BeJesus Fuck? And the Rotten Orange whose oversized derrière rarely sits upon the swivel chair in the Oval Office thinks its A-ok!!! ??? Someone please wake me up.
Some of you might giggle when I mention my current penchant for time travel romance novels but my brief (I read quickly) yet numerous (dozens of books in 2-3 months) escapades into other worlds have given me the opportunity to step away from the unreal “‘now” and have enabled me to view the unfolding and remolding of our world with more than shock and awe shit.
I firmly believe we are at a nexus – a crossroads which may very well give us the opportunity to choose what we collectively desire. Have I lost it (whatever “it” is) and gone all woo woo spiritual? Hmmm. I’ll have to think about it.
Nevertheless, I think we’re gonna have to put on our glass fogging masks and “come on people now, smile on your brother, let’s get together and love one another right now”…(thank you Jesse Colin Young)…if we’re going to get through this with any sense of sanity remaining. With all the angst and oyvey circulating our emotional and physical bodies we’ve gotta do something and quickly.
In the meantime I’m looking into buying cases of fruit loops, figuring out how to stuff soggy cereal into fist size balloons, seeing if Pinterest has any diy instructions on portable catapults
And seeing if my leotard and tights still fit after these many months of sourdough bread ingestion….the cape and mask I’ve got. Who’s with me?
Tune in.
Janet Bernson 