DOOMED!
that's okay, I'll still keep writing this garbage.
My last posts were a half-assed — this one will be 100% assed.1
Maybe. I’ll try, but the long covid goes straight to my head this time of day (and feet, and joints, and wherever the traveling rash pops up, and throat, and whatever used to give a shit about anything, and the bank account, and …).
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I drew this picture a long time ago, and there’s a playlist I’m working on while everything burns. But before that, there will be some rambling about how the day was full of surprises because I am very forgetful and that is starting to alarm me a little, but also how I’m not forgetful enough to put the consequences of climate catastrophe out of my mind for a second, as though I am hijacked by the earth or something.
Today my mind wanted to take the day off and my body wanted to go outside and was stupidly unconcerned about the temperature, which was very hot. With no brain to tell me what to do, I emptied the giant washtub pond with a bucket, took out all the river rocks and the solar fountain that was overworked and killed by the sun, and as I took the washtub past my worktable to the faucet, there were about 20 grow bags and old nursery pots I filled while turning compost the day before, and I totally forgot about them. I even cleaned up after myself. I wondered why I was hobbling around today. I found huge earthworms when digging it out, so it was Very Important To Remember to water everything at dusk because it is Tuesday and the next watering day is Sunday, and I want those fat earthworms to live and be happy, not dry out into little crispy worm dust. I took a nap and at dusk got up, set up washtubs and buckets in the garden, watered everything with the hose sprayer and filled containers for emergency watering between sanctioned watering days.
I poured a lemon fizzy water over ice and started cleaning the bedroom to prepare to reset all the furniture2, emptied boxes, threw away old and expired things, cleared a huge space, and went outside to feed the TNR cats but saw … I don’t know if this is weird, but I saw a very small opossum and all spring and summer I have seen baby possums, more than ever. I think there is a baby possum Neverland under the house because I see small ones more than the adults, and it seems like they are not getting older or larger.
Forgot I cleaned my room but no time to think about it because I am following a weird noise. Turned off music and tried to hear beyond the fans and traffic sounds …
It takes too long to realize the washing machine is agitating. I forgot I started laundry after watering the garden. Jars of iced tea I forgot about are next to the cutting board, ready to put in the fridge. I make space to prepare a meal, but the dishes I need are dirty, so I wash them and forget I did that too. There are towels in the dryer that need to be folded. I completely forgot about them, and they are still there now. Ignoring the apocalypse, looking in the fridge at the tomato sauce and garlic butter I forgot about making last night for the little bolillo pizzas I planned to make but didn’t, I spy a quarter of a watermelon. I slice three wedges, reserve the center on the cutting board, and deliver the rinds to the baby opossum I remembered, who likes tipping the cat bowl into its mouth. I went to the kitchen to boil water for noodles while the world burns, see the watermelon, and eat that instead. I find the lemon fizzy drink in the living room, the ice is melting but it’s very refreshing.
I take pain relievers, allergy treatments, vitamins, antidepressants, stay hydrated with electro-lit hope that I live long enough to heal from the long pandemic hangover, but not so long that I outlive life on Earth.
As I give away possessions, paint pictures, make shadow puppets, sort, organize, discard, watch television, boil water for soup, a large screen looms behind me. I continue to putter through domestic tasks.
In grand technicolor it follows refugees over treacherous borders through traps and razorwire, over choppy seas in rickety watercraft, and I wash dishes.
Glaciers melt and crash into warming oceans, I feel them heave, crack, and plummet down steep cliff walls. I am stirring tomato sauce.
Fires rage, I brush velcro seedheads from the cat’s fur.
I learn about ocean currents and air currents and jet streams, practice new languages, write assy little blogs while behind me, huge graphs compare what used to be to what is now, how much of the frozen Earth is gone, how many species wiped out.
We pray for relief from heat as rivers of hail rush through ancient cities needing relief from heat an ocean away.
A few months ago it felt like I didn’t know how to listen to music, read, write, or draw anymore, like a whole world I once knew was out of reach, things I loved were things I barely cared about. It has been slowly getting better and I think making myself spend time outside was a huge part of healing. I still feel like absolute shit most of the time but it is becoming a little easier to feel other things as well as the oceans boil.
It’s a long playlist, I keep adding, editing, and shifting songs around. I thought about naming the playlist something other than the name of the first song, but idk, seems like it works, and honestly, being real about the collapse of all systems while trying to figure out if there is a danceable rhythm to the chaos can’t hurt, right?
James Lovelock: 'Enjoy life while you can: in 20 years global warming will hit the fan'
Reader, it was not.
another ongoing project is getting rid of things and making the space in the house more functional. My husband turned the kids’ old room into a practice space/guest room (they are always welcome to sleep there and even move back if they want), and I’m moving all my art stuff from the bedroom to the dining room (which was the practice space) so I have dedicated art space and don’t have to schedule studio time around the old man’s sleep schedule.