How do I live in a world where someone can own a seven hundred million dollar boat?
Meanwhile (as they used to say in silent films--say?), there is a rush to save Ukrainian artifacts. Right? Things, not people.
Let's just divide the globe. Russia gets Europe, China the Far East. The U.S. can have North and South America. Will that work? Will that make everybody happy? Who can stop these countries if they agree?
I can't watch any more this slow motion hell.
So. . . the rains have come. Last night was a monsoon. Now it is warm and wet. Everything began growing overnight. It is expected to rain all week. Will people celebrate St. Patrick's Day, that peculiarly American Irish event? The famous Art Festival in my own hometown begins on Friday. They are touting it as the first art festival in the U.S. I doubt it, but it is of no consequence. There is absolutely no art showing there any more. The city made sure to sanitize it very long ago. And now the cruise ships dock and let off millions of celebrants. The streets will be crowded with Covid celebration. I guess it's o.k. The CDC has given up. The righteous right has defeated them. There is no Covid. We're all good.
Still, 1,500 people in the U.S. die from it every day, not down all that much from a few months ago.
Whatever. I'm a Gloomy Gus. A Debbie Downer. I should shut the fuck up and let people have their fun.
I will. I will stop reading and watching the news. I have a new book about Hunter S. Thompson coming today. I got my silly Japanese pants and like them much. My house will be spic and span this evening, shiny like a new dime. I will order takeout tonight, sit in my new pants, and read my new book. Oh. . . I also get a new bar of luxury soap from France today, too. Yup. I may not have a yacht, but what I got is quite a lot. Life can be good if you want it to be. That's what the song says, anyway. Not this one, but another one. I just like this one now. I'll always listen to a sad and lonesome song.
I need to feed the cat.