stuff and things

What to do? Give up following any sort of news? The world is upside down and backward. Even I, the closet anarchist (sometimes not-so-closeted) am losing my tenacious grip on how this world works. This Trump bullshit has taken on a level of idiocy that is hard to deal with, even on the quiet days (wait, are there "quiet" days anymore?). Add to that, favorite public figures deciding to check out, literally one after another (for me, Robin Williams giving up was the canary in the coalmine) with Bourdain leaving us last weekend has me more than bummed. On my best days I have never been one to plan ahead. I do not save money, I do not plan vacations, I do not have a "5 Year Plan" for my career. I have been somewhat jokingly anticipating the decline of the USA for most of my life (that 8-year Obama hiatus was merely a drunken binge wherein I had to put my canine pal down and have my heart stomped a couple more times in order to make sure I don't make the mistake of trusting anyone on a romantic level ever again) but to watch it ACTUALLY FALL TO SHIT is not as satisfying as 24-year-old me dreamed of. It is heartbreaking to watch it unravel. To watch the rich become richer, the poor become desperate, the sick die, the wise defeated. How do you fight this? I had a hard time thinking the average American was not a tv-addicted zombie. Now, the ignorance, even among our "leaders" is rampant. I can't vote nearly enough, and even if I could - who controls that shit now? How do you trust elections? Ugh, even writing about it aches - it used to be a venting mechanism, but now it just feels like listing the things that I see wrong just makes it that much harder to understand. However, walking the dog still provides some solace. A couple days ago on the bus, while wearing my PSA shirt (which I had forgotten I was sporting) a girl walked past and looked me in the eye and said "Friend of the Pod?" with a smile, and at first I said "Wha?" and she smiled more and said "Your shirt! I'm a friend too" it seriously made my day. I told her "Right on" and returned the smile. She moved on to find a seat. It has come to that point - it used to be seeing a fellow punk rocker, and now, it's about coded t-shirts. Also, the Bourdain thing. I don't mention how much influence his book had on me, how much I enjoyed his journey, how inspiring someone finding success so late in life meant to me when I started so late in the kitchen, because, well, everyone seems to have felt that way. But I followed him. I wondered. I was not a fan of his immediate adoration of his new girlfriend. It seemed so much like that blind worship and dedication that so many of us fall into around people, and now, as more information comes to light, his depression may have been feeding on that. Pisses me off in so many ways. But mostly - a man who travelled so often and clearly saw the devolution of things - for him to check out (I used to say it was giving up, but now, in my 51st year on this rock hurtling through space, I'm not so sure it's giving up as just making a choice not to be a part of it anymore) after people like Robin Williams, Chris Cornell, and even Prince (accidental overdose my ass) - what is the point? Why ARE we here? People have posted mostly the same quotes from him, and sure, they all resonate. The one that speaks to me though, the one that speaks truth to me and how I have lived is this one: "Anyone who's a chef, who loves food, ultimately knows that all that matters is: 'Is it good? Does it give pleasure?' Beyond that I'm not sure what else there is to give. Maybe it is about realizing so many dreams that there is nothing left to aspire to? I have always been one to remind myself that while the bulk of life is tedious and painful; every now and then a moment, a day, an hour happens that is so exhilerating, so pleasurable, so lovely that you thank yourself for participating. Being grateful to be around, to experience that feeling. It is heartbreaking to think that people who give so much inspiration and pleasure cannot see past the pain anymore.