Wars within wars, layers like an onion. My grandmother’s sayings rising to the top of my consciousness “My heart is like an onion. You may peel if you will but under every layer is another layer still”, all rush through my mind. The stew that is my being is called into action here and now. The collective knowledge or brainwashing, the personal, the so called rational, it’s all churning and in overdrive.
No relief in sight, calls for rationality offer nothing even close to rational. WTF is rational when nothing is clear, nothing is resolved everything is in flux. I hold on to what I can of my flawed and biased assessment of what’s going on. Is this wrong? Am I a bad Democrat, a hater, a lover, a cultist, a betrayer of the best outcome? Chastised by people I respect as a possible weak link in this battle over no difference other then mandated heath care vs. 15,000,000 left out. Heh? My feeble mind can not compute nor should it have to. I go screw you, political machines. My instincts are my friend, I think, I hope. Deliver me from the only answer? Then again perhaps this is the best bet. Roll those dice!
Take a stance and fear not I say. Then again trust experience. Who, in times like these, offers relief or even a reality that makes sense? “No one” I say, deep inside. My head spins, nausea ensues yet still I cannot let go of the hope. The layers within the Democratic party freak me out. Where does politics end and any answer to the madness begin? Not in the electronic vibrations shot out into my brain from my computer, not in the TV. Where is the answer? Nowhere. Still I cannot let go of hope, the antidote to cynicism, the only raft I have in this sea of inevitability.