swallow my pride

In the space of four days, from art-making, to art show for most excellent viewing and people-watching with the partner in crime, from slacker softball, to real baseball with my dad, watching the Indians win but skipping out on the 70's rock with synchronized fireworks, hanging out with one of my near and dear former roomies who's getting married in a few weeks, making epic plans for Ashtabula County absurdity, plotting road trips to Buffalo, uprooting fragrant mint roots from the back yard, planting basil and oregano in its place.

I'm numb about Bin Laden, a bit cynical, feeling like it's 9/11 all over again with all the jingoism and self-righteousness going down. We're still at war, Gitmo is still doing its thing, all sorts of shadiness is still going on, but oh look we can be distracted and it seems like they got rid of the body awfully fast but who cares and oh by the way security is heightened downtown which means more DHS and TSA on the RTA because oh man maybe someone will bomb Cleveland but who the hell would want to?

I keep on living and trying to figure out this whole loving God and doing the right thing thing and I find it amazing how we try to justify our motivations like they're oh so pure and I understand more and more why people seek oblivion in drink and drugs and Desperate Housewives, because the world is a nasty icky place that upon further inquiry is even more nasty and icky than previously thought.

So I go back to putting my hands in clay, in paint, in dirt, on metal strings and steering wheel, finding ways to laugh and trying to process all this through.