CLOSE THE BULLETS

All this awfulness just takes the life force out of me. Another white dude loses his shit and kills a bunch of people for no — not that there is ever one — apparent reason.

Just a quick addition before I get back to regularly scheduled tasks, even at 11:00.

I had a shit day. I know this is not a rarity among feeling humanity. I kept thinking that I should be able to function on the schedule I have set up for myself to get tasks accomplished to get out of town. But I could not. That fugue state I mentioned in yesterday's post? Well, I had a "lite" version of it. I kind of knew what needed to be done and where I was, but I sure-as-hell had a hard time getting any part of it done. I still haven't folded the towels, but I may just get that in before I fall asleep.

I wrote recently a bit about my personal World Trade Center attack experiences. But on December14,  2012, just a couple of weeks after I lived through Hurricane Sandy, I got to be close to another shooting disaster. Louise and I were driving from Brewster up to Connecticut to work on Monsterwood with Jason. We noticed, on the drive through Connecticut, that a lot of official looking vehicles were streaming in the other direction. As we were working through the drive, we did not pay particular attention, nor did we turn on the radio. But there was a vibe.

When we arrived in Ledyard, happy to see our co-conspirator, we learned the truth of that strange flotilla earlier in the day. We learned that some fucknut had murdered a bunch of children and their protectors. Although I might have remained standing, some inner part of me collapsed onto the floor. My heart and psyche left the premises. I was not entirely focussed on the business at hand.

Oh wait. My heart and soul were broken. Shattered. Demolished. Shredded. Dismembered. I did not sleep that night. And when I drove back to Brewster late the next day, my peregrinations took me through SANDY HOOK, it being a mere 20 miles away. Jay, my host, is a newspaperman in Connecticut. I cannot remember him being home for a day or two. I cannot remember much of anything. I was pierced, shocked, and laid too low.

And since then there have been many many other mass killings. Wait! Not by white men, surely not. Not by cops afraid. Not by white guys walking into black churches. Not by white guys walking into movie theaters. I must be mistaken. Surely morality, sanity, and humanity would work on ways to curtail this behavior.

My gentle readers of this blog are in no way deserving of any jeremiads. However, if one has not been pretty damn close to some of these events, they might not have the same visceral reaction. One has to wonder how close the bullets need be fired.

N.B. I have had some wine.