Silence From the Tower

In early May, I apologized for having been lax in my postings (to put it mildly), then promptly failed to post again until today, nearly three months to the day later.  It’s not that I’ve gotten tired of blogging (although I have, just a little…); I’ve just been rendered uncharacteristically speechless by recent/current political and social events – and as a result, feeling quite depressed.  I’ve been sleeping a lot (if I don’t get my 18 hours a day, I’m not good for anything).  I’ve been following the news and ignoring the news, trying to take rampant stupidity and craziness in stride and, now, successfully ignoring the Olympics (dull, insincere, pointless and expensive).

I don’t want to just be the crazy, angry, disconnected aging lady in the Tower.  I’d like to sound a positive note, be a bit more uplifting – for myself and you.  I simply can’t think of much to be positive about.  Just today, I found out Gore Vidal and Maeve Binchy died this week.  That didn’t help.  As if the world’s day-to-day goings-on weren’t saddening enough.

So, while I haven’t been writing, I’ve been reading.  I’ve taken a good crack at Edgar Allan Poe for the first time.  No pleasure or guidance there.  I don’t feel too bad though; Mark Twain, one of Poe’s contemporaries, proclaimed him “unreadable,” so it’s not just me.  And since I’m trying to write a mystery (which is why I felt I should finally read Master Poe), I’ve been reading mysteries and reading about how to write mysteries, and I still can’t fully craft my heroine, let alone come up with a plot.  This is my first serious attempt at fiction.  My mother used to tell me I had a better ear for non-fiction, an assessment I took to heart since she was just a few credits shy of her Masters in literature – and after all, she was my Mommy.  I try not to think about that too much, but it keeps popping into my head.

I’ve been cooking and baking (the heat notwithstanding) and spending time with My Friend Television.  HBO’s Newsroom is great, but True Blood has gotten convoluted and silly.  I’ve watched the films Unstoppable and Contagion several times, for interesting reasons.  Unstoppable is about the courage that average people are capable of, which is heartening.  Contagion is about how vulnerable we are and how determined the planet is to get rid of a good many of us.  We call it virus, but to the planet, we’re the virus and the so-called virus is anti-bodies for the planet.  In my own way, I find that heartening, too; I’m rooting for the “virus.”  Last but not least, I finally saw Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona, and while I’ve enjoyed much of his post-New York work, this is a truly who-gives-a-fuck-about-these-privileged-uptight-people irritating movie.  Woody often reminds me that I’m a working-class free spirit – and I guess that’s heartening, too.

However…I’m trying to remember that I’m fortunate to be who and where I am, and no matter what my troubles may be, there are millions of others coping with far worse.  I’m trying to remember that this campaign will end and I’ll have to cope with the outcome, whatever it is, just like everyone else.  I’m trying to appreciate clear, sunny days, even though I sleep through most of them, and bright summer flowers, even though I haven’t seen any in person.  And the Stones are going to tour again soon; if that’s not a lesson in strength and perseverance, I don’t know what is!

I’m trying.  More soon – as soon as I rally my strength and fervor.