i wrote this two years ago, it’s spooky to read it today

november 7, 2016

Shout out to the journalists, particularly those on the trail who covered this insane race and who found themselves surrounded by ignorance, hate, confederate flags, and bombarded with so many lies every day it must have been tough some days to figure out which flaming bag of poop to step on.

Shout out to the journalists who didn’t make it this far. 56 journalists around the globe were killed this year while doing their jobs.

Most people don’t like public speaking, writing essays, doing research, or calling someone they know won’t talk to them. Journalists do all of that every day, on deadline, for far less money than you would guess. They work long hours, holidays, nights, and weekends. They are often split apart from their families and miss recitals and baseball games: all so you can be smarter than your friends.

Oh and also, so they can make the world a better place.

The Wells Fargo Scandal, where it was discovered that the giant bank committed enormous fraud didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Journalism exposed it.

So when Donald Trump supporters suggest stringing up journalists for doing the unthinkable – writing down the things their candidate says into a microphone – think about the other nations who ban, kill, and imprison reporters.

Those are the least-American places in the world… probably because there are fewer journalists around there to shine a light on it.

If you know a journalist or run into one, hug them.

They probably could use it.

do you know you belong here

can you see that everything has been laid out

there are pop machines and drive throughs

hospitals and rainbows

all here for one reason and one reason only

so that you me and the lilies of the fields

can do our thing.

theres no reason to stress.

if it all comes falling down, then let it.

if the seas part and the monster rises then scream out:

here i am, here i am.

and hope it knows English.

because being scared is something my girl cat does because she doesn’t watch enough tv or read any books.

shes adorable and soft but no one is wishing to switch places with her any time soon.

the only one who loves her more than me is the boy cat who is brave and adventurous

and thinks hes a dog.

i even call him that now as he follows me around, first in the hall, then when he jumps in the tub

and then leaps on the kitchen sink so he can look me in the eye as i sit on the toilet.

he tries so hard to read my mind but the only thing in there is

the echoes of led zep and fantasies of whats it like in heaven

which yesterday i learned isn’t capitalized.