Thursday, November 04, 2004

 

Ponderings on the day, and a link

Here's the link to a site that I have not investigated further, but if it's for real, then holy crap do we ever have a legitimate quagmire on our hands: Iraq Body Count

And now for the day finally ending. It's been a weird one, and my emotions have been all over the bloody map, as per usual. To begin with, there's the lingering despondence over the unbelievable loss to George Dumbya Bush--again! How the hell did that happen? I am soooo curious to know how they cheated this one, I really truly am. And lingering along with said despondence, residual anger--dare I say a feeling slightly more than akin to cold, blue rage?--and deep sadness. Sadness at the memory of the tears--I cannot be the only one who heard them!--in John Kerry's voice yesterday (it was only yesterday, and it seems a lifetime ago).

Sadness at the memory of a cheerful boyish grin on the face of John Edwards yesterday--a grin that swiftly, brutally, was wiped from his face by the hovering demon of cancer in his beloved wife's body. Not enough to bury a teenaged son, now they must together face this, just as the shattered dream of a Vice Presidency recedes swiftly into the past. Just as the newborn hope of a possible run in 2008 is murdered before it can draw breath.

Confusion over the state of Middle East affairs (and why do we always say "Middle East affairs" as if it involved nothing more harmful than a backseat tryst between adulterers?). Not knowing whether Yasser Arafat is even alive at this point, with far too many conflicting accounts becoming "breaking news." And when he does die, if he isn't already dead, the Middle East is going to implode. We have a new terror on our plates this evening, folks, a new fear. And it's a fear we all should have, realistically, seen coming all along. What is going to happen to Palestine, with no clear leader emerging as of yet, with no set government to follow Arafat?

And so, to bed, or at least to get my daughters headed in that general direction before I can myself collapse and maybe watch "Without a Trace," and try to pretend that all of the confusion, that all of the conflicting emotion, is in the background of my life for a few hours. As if it won't creep, stealthy and flame, into my dreams...

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