There is little about my present day to day that resembles me in past decades. Those busy years when the washable wall calendar held a live or die schedule of schooling, sporting and musical events, each directing every moment. A life that revolved around the immediate. A life that didn’t lose sleep over what billionaire screwed up something. I mean, I knew that they were wheeling and dealing, with our systems of governance, because, well, haven’t they always? But back then I was too busy with the stuff you just had to do before you could lay your head down to pay them any heed. Nowadays, although it does seem prudent to pay attention to the white house criminals who flout court orders, disregard constitutional law, and run about like mad dogs biting our collective jugular, I caution you against giving them all of your waking hours. Instead find a greater joy, like when a chubby baby demands you stay in the wonderful present and don’t ferment over the rich and coiffed ladies who lifted off the planet for 11 minutes of fame. Why do they command our attention while the planet burns?
Nine Cent Girl 