Week Twenty-Five

This week held the tragedy of the Boston Marathon Bombing. I’m going to admit something to you right now. I didn’t watch an awful lot of the coverage. I didn’t need to see it. That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it.

I watched and cried during the years of shootings:

Sandy Hook, Aurora, Utøya and so many others right the way back to Columbine in 1999. I’ve been horrified by bombs: 9/11, Omagh and Oklahoma.

I do not need to watch this and witness this again. The grief looks the same and the ache it brings up in me is the same also. It doesn’t mean I feel any less for these victims, it doesn’t mean I am desensitized to the tragedy or any less enraged by the fuckwits who commit such an act. I am doing what I can to hold to the small shaft of positivity in this week. Because I don’t want to lose it. I want to still believe in the overwhelming possibility that people are good. I want to hang on to the stories of a society acting in a supportive manner toward each other. Actually it’s more than that. I NEED to hang on to that feeling. I need to believe that there are more good people than bad, that more kind acts happen each week than unkind ones. I need to believe that more people each day say words of love rather than think thoughts of hate. I need to believe this, because it’s pretty much all I got and I cannot let that spark go out. There are people counting on me to keep their memory alive.

Wise words from Patton Oswalt:

“But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evil doers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation. We would not be here if humanity were inherently evil. We’d have eaten ourselves alive long ago.

So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, “The good outnumber you, and we always will.”

Reading info:

Finish The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

NaPoWrimo # 21

Prompt: Rewrite Frank O’Hara’s Lines for Fortune Cookies (I didn’t choose all of them only the ones which made me laugh the most)

Lines For The Fortune Cookies by Frank O’Hara

I think you’re wonderful and so does everyone else.

Just as Jackie Kennedy has a baby boy, so will you–even bigger.

You will meet a tall beautiful blonde stranger, and you will not say hello.

You will take a long trip and you will be very happy, though alone.

You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.

In the beginning there was YOU–there will always be YOU, I guess.

You will write a great play and it will run for three performances.

Please phone The Village Voice immediately: they want to interview you.

Roger L. Stevens and Kermit Bloomgarden have their eyes on you.

Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.

Your first volume of poetry will be published as soon as you finish it.

You may be a hit uptown, but downtown you’re legendary!

Your walk has a musical quality which will bring you fame and fortune.

You will eat cake.

Who do you think you are, anyway? Jo Van Fleet?

You think your life is like Pirandello, but it’s really like O’Neill.

A few dance lessons with James Waring and who knows?

Maybe something will happen.

That’s not a run in your stocking, it’s a hand on your leg.

I realize you’ve lived in France, but that doesn’t mean you know EVERYTHING!

You should wear white more often–it becomes you.

The next person to speak to you will have a very intriquing proposal to make.

A lot of people in this room wish they were you.

Have you been to Mike Goldberg’s show? Al Leslie’s? Lee Krasner’s?

At times, your disinterestedness may seem insincere, to strangers.

Now that the election’s over, what are you going to do with yourself?

You are a prisoner in a croissant factory and you love it.

You eat meat. Why do you eat meat?

Beyond the horizon there is a vale of gloom.

You too could be Premier of France, if only … if only…


My Version

You think you’re wonderful. No one else does. Accept this and move on.

You will meet a tall blonde beautiful stranger, call your friends and start a hate campaign.

You will never be alone on your long trip. This makes you very unhappy.

You will write a mediocre play. It will never be performed outside your head.

You will scramble the eyes of the first person who asks you to marry them. What an idiot.

You walk has an intriguing quality that will either get you arrested or employed. Choose wisely.

Do not run your hand up his leg. He’s wearing stockings and eyeing up your shoes.

You should not wear white; you look like a marshmallow frozen mid explosion.

A lot of people in this room want to punch you in the face, accept this and move on.

Now that the election is over, who are you going to hate now?

You don’t eat meat. Why don’t you eat meat?

Beyond the doom there is a vale of sorrow, a small molehill and a valley of tears.

You will never be President of Mexico.