I took the laptop to the park today for a late lunch (I worked until two, then I'll go back and get a bit more done), and there are a couple of young men (around twenty, probably forced home from their missions early) standing in the stream, picking out the biggest rocks they can throw up onto the banks. I've watched them do it, first with curiosity, now with mild disdain, as they toss the big
rocks out of the water, move along to the next one, and do it until there are many rocks alongside the stream. Then they get out and pick each rock up and toss it further up the bank.
My assumption is that this is exercise. The gyms are all closed, they aren't allowed to have sex, so they're doing what they can to keep themselves occupied and in shape. Except that they--
Oh, I get it now. I watched where they were tossing the rocks, all in the same place, and now I understand: they are damming up the stream. They're using the biggest rocks to stop up the waterflow, I presume just for the fun of it. Maybe they're younger than I thought. But no harm done, I think I value what they're doing more now than I did. Plus, it's keeping me from writing, and that is the most important thing.
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| The dam-in-progress |
There are a bunch of protests going on across America right now. Half of them are Trump supporters up in arms (literally, the fucks actually take weapons to these protests because they know they'll not be bothered, even by police) about the phony left-wing COVID-19 hoax the Democrats invented to tank the economy and try to trick good old boys into wearing facemasks.
The other half of the protests are about a man who was killed while being arrested by Minneapolis police. He was a black man, unarmed, who expressed "I can't breathe" as one of the cops knelt on the back of his neck. It's one of, I dunno, a thousand cases of this sort of thing happening, but it both happened to have been documented and occurred in a time when tensions are super-high, so there has been a huge outcry about it, with marches, vandalism, messages on social media, and looting. The response to these demonstrations has been very different, and that has only enflamed the tensions.
Tensions between the races have been high for my entire lifetime, and I don't know what the solution is. I used to think that one day, the racists would die out, and we'd enjoy a more golden age as people, but racism is taught and passed on, like religion or storytelling or language, and there's always a new generation willing to say that "____ aren't like the rest of us. They're not really people."
The black voices have been very loud in all this, because they're sick to death of this sort of thing continually happening. Being a policeman is hard (my cousin started out as a deputy and is now part of the local equivalent of the Special Crimes Unit, and he sees the worst mankind has to offer), but there are people who get a little power in them and it seems to increase their racist or violent tendencies, as much as a gang or prison does. I do understand that being around criminals all the time can make you think that everybody's a criminal, but it will always be hard for me to fully grasp the plight of the black man in this country.
When I lived in L.A., I became friends with several African Americans (only one of which, sadly, I still talk to all the time), and they did have an innate sense of Us versus Them when they got together, which I often found myself on the outside of. I always wanted them to know that I liked and respected them, regardless of race, but it just wasn't possible for me to blend in with them like it was on the rare occasions that I spent time around Latinos (where at least I had the language as an advantage).
My friend Matthew once told me, "You have no idea what it's like to feel eyes on you every time you walk into a 7-11, because the clerk is afraid of your skin color." And he was right--the only comparisons in my experience have been when some employee came after me and my cousin in a Walmart one night absolutely certain we were shoplifting, or a time when I got pulled over (again, with my cousin) by a cop who said, "You just couldn't help yourself, huh? You thought you'd drive by one more time." I didn't know what he was talking about, and said so. He accused us of being the guys who were driving around, making trouble, getting chased by the cops all night (or several nights, maybe). But I explained we'd just come from Taco Bell, and I hadn't been in town until just now.
And he took our word for it and let us drive away. But you hear stories ALL THE TIME about black guys getting pulled over and harassed like that because they've got dark skin, or because their car is too nice, or because their grandparents wouldn't ride at the back of the bus. Would that policeman have just let me go my way, if I hadn't been a dorky white guy? I do try to understand, try to empathize, but I admit that I don't know what it's like, and the few glimpses I've had--somebody locking their doors in a parking lot as I walk past their car, for example--are almost always the exception rather than the rule.
I remember telling Matthew, "When you and I are older, we'll get together and your kids will play with my kids, and we'll raise them to believe we're all the same and they'll look at us, white and black, as best friends, and their lives will be better." It seems charmingly naïve to repeat it now, but it was heartfelt at the time, because I had found in him a brother (not a brutha, but somebody who I loved like he had always been there, part of my family), and I thought that would last forever. My friendship with him changed me, for the better, as a human being, but not everybody has that kind of relationship, and like the Cash song says, everyone I know goes away in the end.
I've heard some of the protesters say they don't want whites on their side, that this is our fault, so we should save our tears and expressions of support. And I sort of get that, or at least I'm trying to. But They win every time we're divided against one another instead of against Them, you know? The best I can do is try to do what I can in my small sphere of influence, open my mind up a little more than it has been, and see if I can't make myself better.
Once again, I'm blogging when I should be writing. If blogposts counted as daily words, I'd be over 200,000 by now.
Since I sat down here, the rock-dammers have stopped and gone home (leaving their job only half-finished), a small group of about ten came and sunbathed for a little while (too far away with my eyesight to really ogle), and a boyfriend and girlfriend went over to the baseball diamond and practiced batting with each other. Such a dearth of activity I again wonder what I'm unaware is happening elsewhere that everybody is so focused on.
I just checked yesterday's post, where I was at a park with a swimming pool and it was filled to the brim with people (if I had to guess, I'd say two hundred, maybe three), and it was just as hot as today, only a day different. I can't explain it.
I got VERY little writing done as I sat on the blanket under the tree in the empty park. Well, I did the word count, and it was six hundred words, so maybe not so very little. I may have mentioned this, but Monday, the library reopens. I feel like I did talk about this, but I'll reiterate that, you have to wear a mask to go into the library, and you have to ask permission to use their computers (after which, they'll wipe down the mouse and keyboard, and probably the seat). No one is allowed to stay longer than two hours, apparently (my guess is that this rule--and the mask one--will not last beyond June first, just because of human nature). My plan, if I can get my work done in time, is to go there and sit and write like I used to, but REALLY focus my time--no surfing the internet, no messing around on Wikipedia.
Shoot, I just remembered I have to do a Patreon address this weekend. I will be embarrassed to admit I haven't even started recording "Three-Time Visitor," which was a goal for both April and May, if I recall. And I can't make it a priority tonight, because I haven't gone running, and I need to sit down and record Abbie's story, which is called "Lucky." She and I spoke for a good while today, and I regret mentioning that we butt heads in yesterday's post. She's good people, and have a couple of profoundly similar things in common. I must just be intimidated by her intellect.
Sit-ups Today: 82
Sit-ups Total: 1738
I got no more writing done at night. I sat down and started recording "Lucky," and before I knew it, I was falling asleep. It takes a tremendous amount of concentration to get all the accents, words, and performances right, so I stopped and went to bed. Tomorrow I will try again.
Words Today: 607
Words In May: 31,080
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