Plague Journal, The Axe
Waking this morning, my first thought was the fragment of a dream. I was the subject of the dream. I saw myself, standing in a room, with an axe in my hand, chopping through a wooden floor. Then I was awake and the dream evaporated.
A wise person once said to me that that a dream is always about the dreamer. I have never doubted it. This one was particularly violent. Using an axe is a visceral, violent act. The axe is a stout blade, heavy, at the end of a handle. When swung unimpeded, the blade divides the object struck with rending, shearing force.
There is within all of us knowledge, to which we chose not to attend, which we obscure by noise, by the drone of ceaseless and meaningless prattle. What do I really know, but am too fearful to admit, afraid to explore with the tentative boldness of a child? No matter the uncertainty — a child will forge ahead to touch and to see what is hidden, discover what may be in the next room.
What absurd belief do I cultivate, in order to obscure a truth that terrifies me? At risk of saying too much, here are truths that terrify us privileged whites: that Black lives have mattered less than White lives, that women’s rights are human rights, that capitalism is without morality and produces paupers, that global climate warming is real because science is real.
I have observed two to four squirrels at play, chasing one another around wildly, in abandon. This is happens silently with all of the animal precision of balance, agile movement that is the squirrels nature as a dweller in the trees. On occasion I hear a squirrel hidden somewhere on a tree branch chattering loudly. When the squirrel “speaks” I speculate that the squirrel has more to say than do we, with all of our social media, our network of communication channels that never sleep, that twenty four by seven are never silent.
We are in the midst of a propaganda storm.
Where is that axe?
Now this.
All Out Of Love
By Air Supply
I’m lying alone with my head on the phone
Thinking of you till it hurts
I know you hurt too but what else can we do
Tormented and torn apart
I wish I could carry your smile in my heart
For times when my life seems so low
It would make me believe what tomorrow could bring
When today doesn’t really know, doesn’t really know
I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you
I know you were right, believing for so long
I’m all out of love, what am I without you
I can’t be too late to say that I was so wrong
I want you to come back and carry me home
Away from these long, lonely nights
I’m reaching for you, are you feeling it too?
Does the feeling seem oh, so right?
And what would you say if I called on you now
And said that I can’t hold on?
There’s no easy way, it gets harder each day
Please love me or I’ll be gone, I’ll be gone
I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you
I know you were right, believing for so long
I’m all out of love, what am I without you
I can’t be too late to say that I was so wrong
Ooh, what are you thinking of
What are you thinking of
What are you thinking of
What are you thinking of
I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you
I know you were right, believing for so long
I’m all out of love, what am I without you
I can’t be too late I know I was so wrong
I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you
I know you were right, believing for so long
I’m all out of love, what am I without you
I can’t be too late I know I was so wrong
I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you
I know you were right, believing for so long
I’m all out of love, what am I without you
I can’t be too late to say that I was so wrong