Black Day in July

You know? I'm not even surprised, hearing about the shootings in Dallas. Strangely not even all that sad, and anything but shocked.

I'm numb inside. Immune to the trending headlines that speak of death after death, murder, brutality, hate, and still the misguided and patently stupid belief that guns will fix everything.

The U.S. has been heading for a meltdown for some time. It's so broke. There can be only so many black lives taken by police before the guns are turned around. The anger, the frustration, the justified belief that nothing will ever change, that black lives don't matter, has created a simmering cauldron that is way above the boiling point. 

I don't condone it, of course. I hate guns. But I'm not surprised. 

It's ridiculous that the U.S. has a reputation for its stance on terrorism, and yet it's not terrorists Americans should be worried about: it's each other. I'm not going to offer up any prayers because I believe that's a complete waste of breath, spit and time, but I do send condolences to my American friends, and a sincere hope that they can find a way to muddle through this nightmare they're forced to endure. Talk about a black day in July.

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I posted this on FB tonight; thought it was worth sharing. For what it's worth.

Is pillowy an actual word?

It's been a while. No excuses, just doing other things. But lately - at least - I've been thinking not just about this blog but about writing again. We'll see what comes of it.

I was camping on the weekend and the urge to write was strong, so I picked up a piece of paper and started laying some words down, only to be interrupted when Dave served up some bacon 'n eggs. Is there anything better than pork & fowl in the great outdoors?

I promptly put down my paper and chowed down.

There's so much going on in the world, so much bad, so much that I don't know enough to comment on, and every time I do I get into trouble, so I try to keep my yap closed. After a while, I don't feel qualified enough to comment on anything. And who seriously cares if I have bacon and eggs while camping? Or what's going on in my mediocre little life?

I guess the only reasons to continue with a blog is because my writing skills are so rusty I'm going to need a crowbar to loosen them up; because I miss the diary-like connection of mind to keyboard; and because I miss the camaraderie of blogland. Facebook is pretty harsh some days. Blogger is pillowy by comparison.

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Thanks for the e-mail, Rob-Bear. Means a lot.