There was something grandma said when you said “My heart is broken.”
“Make your guts into a new heart, and go on.”
Humans are …. complex. We’re not precisely one thing or the other. For instance, even when I wrote eight hours a day, every day, I wrote in the wave of my inspiration. You see, I had trained inspiration to come on cue. (And because I usually wrote on Saturdays, if we went on vacation, I still got the inspiration on Saturdays, which is why I have to ton of stuff to type in scribbled on multiple hotel note pads, napkins, paper towels and toilet paper.
But when it all breaks: when I’m sick and tired and despairing, I can write from rational thought, and, once or twice out of pure malice and spite (hint, malice and spite don’t make for my best books. BUT they do get them done.)
I’ve been accused many times — accused being the right term — on this blog of being an optimist.
I’m not. I’m actually a dark, despairing pessimist, which feeds wonderfully into my depressive tendencies.
Because I don’t want to die — or worse, live in utter despair and destroy the lives of those around me with the gloomy cloud of despair — I’ve spent most of my life since I was fourteen or so doing what I call “reality checking.”
“It’s not that bad/can’t get that bad, because look, there’s this. And this won’t work the way it does in your brain. And–”
When you get all those posts you say have cheered you up, or where people come to yell at me for being an optimist they are the result of a dark night of the soul. I trolled the depths, and from the depths I brought THIS.
This is why I tend to avoid, like the plague, both horror stories and the sort of despairing thriller where you fight and fight and fight and in the end it’s maybe slightly better, but not much. Or you become what you have fought. That is the NORMAL pattern my mind tries to make. i had to train myself out of it.
So I’m very very good at seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and determining it’s not an oncoming train.
And guys, I’m having trouble. Real trouble.
I look at “70% of the country” including places like Texas and Utah will be voting by mail. And I know what happens with fraud by mail. And early fraud, and all the various corruptions of “voting” that are not on the day, after you registered a month earlier, at a verified address (you know, the sort of thing they make you do to get a checking account, say?) and on paper, and then carefully watched. All of those, btw, are run by the same people now demanding vote by mail, to save them from a (granted particularly severe) variation of the cold virus. Which mostly kills people over 80 who are already in poor health. (To be fair, just about anything kills them.)
And I don’t see how we turn this.
And everything the left is doing, in their spiraling insanity seems to confirm it. Kamala? Biden? That necrotic convention? The idiot rumors about Trump (possibly personally) stealing mailboxes? All of it adds up to “We’re just making it credible enough that Biden wins. We have the votes taken care of. It’s in the bag. Like the communist countries of old, we don’t even have to run a credible show.”
And I can’t do anything. I’ve tried. G-d knows I tried. Years ago — 2012? — when I first talked about how all those “conveniences” in voting increased fraud, I got ON THIS BLOG a barrage of “You just hate me and don’t want me to vote because I have to work.” Or “I love voting by mail. It’s so convenient.” And of course, the usual idiots said I was against the military voting, apparently failing to see the difference between unavoidable, carefully watched situations, and just mailing out ballots to every person, cat, dog and imaginary character at an address. I tried to point out because of motor voter a lot of permanent residents THINK they can (and should) vote. Because no one explains you have to be a citizen. Or insist on registering you even if you show as ID, say, a Japanese passport as has happened.
Now no one is saying any of that when I mention fraud by mail and early fraud. But now it’s too late. Most states have same-day registration. The early vote tells the left how many new voters to register, even if their names are Mickey Mouse and Milk Jug.
And because crooked election after crooked election was accepted, so long as the left does a little dance and pretends they have massive support, and the press sings along in the choir, well…. How do you dispute one? Will anyone even dispute one? Even try to? Or will the right be afraid of the mythical “uprising of the people” if they do?
I don’t know if it’s the circumstances of this horrible year, but I feel myself future blind. I usually have a sense of what’s coming assembled by my (despite myself) rational processes beneath the surface.
I don’t now.
I don’t see past the beginning of November. If the left wins, the country as we know it will be gone within a year. And if you think that’s impossible contemplate what they’ve done to our cities and states in five months. FIVE MONTHS.
They want to open borders wide and confiscate and redistribute property. After that, there is no America. And like with NYC (which I always loved, despite everything) there is no coming back from that. The people themselves will be broken. Why create, start, work really hard, dream, do anything, when it can all be taken away at a whim? The East Germans haven’t recovered. Russia… well, Russia is Russia. But America, put through that won’t be America. Whatever emerges on the other side will be just a country of serfs. In my dark hours I think we’re halfway there.
And don’t tell me we can rebel and fight. Guys, we can’t go to the store without masks. The left revived their monopoly on information in the shutdown. By trying to get information on the plague, they are glued to the TV night and day, and even though it’s lies and frankly outright nonsense, people are being gaslit into believing them. Which is why the panic fear of the unmasked person, and the mob that forms at grocery stores to form an asthmatic to mask up. Even though masks — if they do anything — are a net negative, and the virus is nowhere near as lethal as advertised.
We’re back to where we were in the seventies and eighties, where if the right commits any violence (even violent words) they are the aggressors, and evil bad, and must be destroyed. Look at the whole “your words are violence.” Hell, even our silence is violence. Even their violence is our violence. Look at what they did to JFK’s assassination. That’s what they’ll do to any (real) resistance.
Grandma said to make your guts into a new heart and I’ve been trying. It’s not working markedly well.
I’ve started feeling all those symptoms of stress that I used to have when I knew the publisher was doing his/her best to bury my books, no matter what I did, and that I couldn’t fight back.
It ties in with all the symptoms of stress from my growing up years, where I also could do nothing.
I need to make my guts into a new heart. I need to– Well, at the very least I need not to worry my family. Getting flooring done and books written would also help.
But I think I went through my guts last time I had to forge a new heart. I have nothing. And though I see that what they’re destroying is mostly their own fields, and though I know they can’t keep their insane regime forever, I’m afraid they can do it long enough to destroy us.
The loss of wealth, health and ultimately life these past five months, not from Covid-19 but from the stupid attempts to destroy us, disguised as attempts to stop the virus, is incalculable. It might be more than all the wars of the twentieth century, worldwide.
And the loss of American spirit is far, far worse than that.
I want to believe we come back. I want to believe we recover. I want to believe this insane clown posse of grifters and corruptocrats (anyone notice this started JUST as the whole Russiagate was about to be nailed to Obama’s tail? Or that everyone running this crazy psiops on the virus has their pockets filled by China?) will be gone after this last final spasm.
But I’m holding on by my fingernails, while I look at the election approaching and a massive Game Over blinks in my head.
I need you for a reality check. I need you to be the optimists for me.
My guts are worn out. May I borrow yours?