A post with no name; a country without morals

It is that part of the summer where the ocean waves break more ferociously, the air smells of salt and I want everything to be alright with the world.

For an hour or so i can escape into that realm of my brain where the memories are marked “happy summers of years past,” but then as the breakers come gliding to shore faster and faster I come back to reality.

Nothing is as it should be this summer of 08. It’s as if we have collectively gone down the hole and can’t find our way back up. Or maybe King of Hearts was my favorite movie for so many years for a good reason. The inmate have taken over the asylum, but not the inmates with love and good tidings.

For several hours today I was fixated on the idea of the Democrats staging a coup and taking over The White House on the “who cares about Democracy, we need a government that works” theorem of life.

But that fantasy left my head as I couldn’t stop of thinking of each segment of the Constitution that would be disregarded, laws broken, and how the Republicans would have a just reason to declare martial law

One of my favorite of all blogs is Cooper’s. I can’t help it. And will offer no explanation other than everybody should read a blog that defines the word.

Damn that girl and her conscience. Please read her post and numerous links on LeVena Johnson

Honestly when I first heard her and her death in Iraq all I could think was “why did you a beautiful girl, born the same year as Cooper, to privilege and I’m sure parental helped higher education enlist in the Army upon graduating high school? Couldn’t you have done something like my Goddaughter and got a job in a cupcake bakery? Go to Costa Rica? Volunteer somewhere in America? Why the army?”

I’m jaded. I’m a New Yorker. I never got that volunteer in the army to go to Iraq thing. I understand people think they’re expressing patriotism but I’m old enough to think of their parents and the other people they have left behind, and I never found Iraq a just war worth anybody dying for.

But she did and she died on my birthday almost three years ago, and so stupidly it becomes personal. The army says she killed herself. Her father, who I’m sure mentally beats himself every night, is trying to get an investigation as evidence points to rape and murder.

Cooper once again thank you for making me think of things bigger and more important than the things I think about. Though tomorrow if it’s not pouring I’m running into the waves to try to forget for just an hour.

It’s not too late to impeach Bush, Cheney etc., for war crimes I don’t know about you but it would make me feel a bit less dirt laden.
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On a note that bears no relation to the rest of this post here’s a Washington Post article about older people being happier. I’m not going to be in my 60’s yet, but I do get the article. I have felt a well of emotions recently but I’m selling my apartment (badly) moving to a strange but interesting state, wrote an article that made me dig deep and remember much.

The strange and wonderful thing was that i didn’t get all hysterical, didn’t fell into the anxiety or depression. I knew I would survive. I feel a calmness I never have before. I call it menopause to be blunt, but maybe it’s something more. I do like it and with this new found true strength I can survive all the above. I also have called it blogging and I do think having a “journal” I can vent into and that more than I read does play a part. But that’s my personal recipe for new found happiness in a world gone mad.

My best friend Lucia is going to be here on Thursday and we’re going to party like it’s 1985, without most of the things we used to do, without the rest of the people who will be here in spirit and/or on cell, and in a totally different geographic location. But as we’re half of the BlenderBusters (more usually called BustedBlenders now) we have a responsibility to find the perfect blended drink. We spent many a summer driving up and down the Northeast looking for the perfect frozen strawberry daiquiri. I have this horrible tendency to drag my friends into my obsessions. But they’re still looking, still laughing and still telling the story of how we became the BlenderBusters. Everything about us mortifies LuceAna Mae (Lucia’s daughter) but she loves that story. It’s her mother, godmother’s and two favored aunt’s history! At a party, when I was in New York in June, I realized I knew everybody for at least 30 years. There’s something both humbling and wondrous about that.