I think no one but [Norman] Mailer could have dared this book. The authentic Western voice, the voice heard in “The Executioner’s Song” is one heard often in life but only rarely in literature, the reason being that to truly know the West is to lack all will to write it down. The very subject of “The Executioner’s Song” is that vast emptiness at the center of the Western experience, a nihilism antithetical not only to literature but to most other forms of human endeavor, a dread so close to zero that human voices fade out, trail off, like skywriting.
from Joan Didion’s “I want to go ahead and do it” (review of Norman Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song, 1979)
I don’t have much to say here this evening. I’ve just given Sophie her first dose of evening medications and am lying on my bed staring at the ceiling. It’s the eve of the midterm elections. I dropped my ballot off after work, dropped it into a mini tank-like thing on the sidewalk outside my local public library. It was already dark out, and I felt a little nervous. I’d like to think that people will vote with the most vulnerable in mind, but who am I kidding in this terrible country? Even as tents line the boulevards of Los Angeles, filled with unhoused humans, a billionaire who develops shopping malls for a living has a good chance of becoming mayor. I don’t even feel anxiety at this point. I feel dumb and numb.
But hey, it’s National Family Caregivers Month and I’m a MoFaCa. Two more young children in my community of family caregivers died this week. This morning I woke to a gentle rain. Sophie was still sleeping. I lay in bed and meditated for about twenty minutes, got up and made coffee, lit some candles and wrote for a bit. I used pale gray and blue watercolors to mimic the sky outside my window. How do you paint clouds on white paper? A bird kept chirping. I felt at peace. I gave Sophie her first morning medication and a sip of water. She looked grateful when she lay back down in her nest. One of the Marias came to care for Sophie, and I went to work. I teach English literature to beautiful children in middle and high school. I can continue to do these simple things. I am grateful.
beautiful post. on the eve. of the midterms. oh if only. people would vote. with the most vulnerable. in mind. abrazos.
What a beautiful early morning read. Thank you.