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Rough Drafts
A Series of Pieces Written in The Wild
#21
The last two weeks have been soul crushing. I startle at the sound of a butter knife falling into the sink. Outside the sun is shining where yesterday it was a blanket of clouds. Every day is new and also somehow the same. Many out there are trying to prove how pro-this and not anti-that they are, mostly to perform and not because they actually care or fully comprehend what’s going on in a land across the world from them. And reinforcing the binary thinking they so proclaim they’ve been “unlearning” since 2020. But it just looks like more of the same violence to me.
For anyone curious, this is where I stand: I am pro the sandpaper kisses of a beloved pet, wide-eyed babes taking in the world so big and new, and warm hugs from a giant blue and white-striped towel around a salty body. I am pro 2am walks with the peace of darkness and silence walking beside like an old friend and I am pro a handshake from a new acquaintance with a little extra squeeze before letting go. When a book falls open I am pro being transported to another world. I, myself, am not a pro at many things but I do know where to find the best coffee or conversation. I haven’t been able to maintain a professional life in the last three decades but I have been able to profess devotion, energy, and time in whatever I do whether it’s seen by others or not. I’ve had…
