The CDC just announced there are no more speed limits on highways, and I think this Ativan is finally hitting. The NYPD farmer’s market only sells bad apples, have you heard that one?
(cont)
Listen it’s warm today, too warm for March. But I don’t have time to think through the implications because there’s laundry to do and a genocide to stop.
Falsely accusing your political allies and pool of potential recruits is a bigger millstone around the neck of the Left than any obstacle The Man has laid in our path.
Biden defenders have been claiming that only congress has authority to authorize weapons transfers to Israel.
This article, based on leaks from lawmakers themselves, states that the Biden administration deliberately circumvented congress 100 times using a loophole.
Yeah, the bothsidesism is absolute poison to making progress. But the poem sure captures that feeling of desperation. Desperation made much worse since we're surrounded by the propaganda techniques of the fascists pushing that line onto us all
It just nailed where I've increasingly been. There are too many things, atrocious, globally impactful things, I can't and shouldn't ignore. And I have to do the laundry.
Yeah that’s the fucking horror, and a huge part of understanding how historical moments went the way they did: through all the wars and plagues and disasters and genocides and revolutions throughout all human history, people kept having to still somehow do their day-to-day obligations.
Even with the tanks rolling into the city, the laundry still needs doing, the baby’s diaper still needs changing, the eldest still needs breakfast and, if it’s safe today, needs to go to school. You still need to scrounge up some groceries, and you still need your medications refilled, and you…
…still need to go to work, and you still need to come up with some money to bribe the county clerk, and you’re still worried about your mother and not sure if your letter ever even arrived, and so on and so on.
Read to the end: he acknowledges all the f'd-up-ness of reality, gives up on trying to figure out all the implications of climate change and focuses on the laundry (what's right in front of him) & the genocide (Priority 1).
I don't think he's giving in to anything.
This is a person who has succumbed completely to the darkness. This is a person who believes the voice in their head telling them it's all over and we're all doomed. Source: I used to be like that.
You should delete this because it's a horrible thing to say
Firstly no one gave up
And secondly the bravest people you can ever meet have severe depression and anxiety
That is not what this is—it is noting the hypocrisy all around but working through it to do the small things that the narrator can do in his own life. It is the opposite of giving up or giving in
It may be a reach but I can't help reading a glimmer of defiance and hope because it ends on "But I don't have time [...] because there's laundry to do and a genocide to stop." I know it can read as exhaustion, but the moral imperative to put it all aside and focus on what matters, inspires
I literally wrote a poem two days ago that is eerily similar, including a mundane detail + genocide framing start and finish! I would normally panic that my creative work resembles something else's work, but I am comforted by the fact I'm not the only one who's brain works that way.
a whole lot of people are missing the point of this piece.
stop reading it as a summation of radical platforms or a road map for the future.
its just about being a human in this nightmare age (some of us are living through).
balancing the global and national horror against "normal" ongoing life.
Generally the narrator is considered separate from the poet in poetry, so perhaps that is what he is doing. Not all poets write autobiographically. I don’t know the poet though
It is impossible to not think about children being killed by bombs and starved. I think about it a lot. In quiet moments - like late at night when folding the laundry
