Incinerate

I am laying on a leopard couch trying to write. I play music to inspire me, some Iggy Pop, Sonic Youth, Pink Floyd, Flaming Lips, and then some Beatles. A bit eclectic. But inspiring like I said. My dogs are playing with a stick from outside. I take it away. I decide to go feed them and then take them out. 

A bird screeches in the sky above us. We all look up.

That's how the world feels. As if something is startling us. Screeching by on a daily basis. All while we are just trying to get through the day. But as Iggy sings, "all of this is yours and mine", and it's being incinerated. 

I've been trying to work on my novel about a truck stop waitress in the high desert. I like this character. She's not me, but like me she's into music, although mostly country music, and similarly, she used to be a lawyer. Yet, her world is crumbling or has crumbled. It's a realistic novel about getting through the day however you can, especially when the personal and political are both in shambles. How would you get through? 

Somehow, I don't think any of us thought this could happen. That our lives would be this upended. That we would be truly afraid. 

Afraid of the now and what is to come.