And now I know ‘Spanish Harlem’ are not just pretty words to say

If you want happy, go check out my Instagram stories/feed. There’s plenty there to keep you occupied. This is where I’ve come today to say the things I can’t really tell anyone.

Up until last night, I had been able to hold my shit together. After all, I got out of NYC. I landed softly at a good place in Tucson. I was semi-counseling friends in other places whose lives have been intimately impacted by what’s going on. A friend has two parents down with this, one in the ICU…maybe on a ventilator by now. A friend in NYC who’s treating patients without any safety measures.

Friends who’ve lost jobs, who won’t be covered by this bullshit stimulus plan that saves asset rich industries but expects small businesses owners to personally guarantee loans that they might not ever be able to pay back, that screwed D.C. out of money, and that won’t help most artists who get paid under the table. It won’t help the unemployed.

If I can see it, why can’t others who have actual degrees in this stuff? I think the answer is hubris. I have doctor friends who were posting infographics for weeks telling people how much more dangerous the flu was. They weren’t taking covid-19 seriously and they were helping to create this false sense of safety in the public.

I knew all of this, and yet, last night, it was a video that took me down. A video taken by a cyclist during a ride through midtown Manhattan…devoid of people. When I saw the sidewalk I used to walk, secretly annoyed by the tourists walking slowly, now empty, I lost it. I cried and cried.

NYC became my home before it was my home. That was the whole point of this blog…to talk to you about my move there, starting last March. I knew I was meant to live out there. And it was so true! My life in NYC was amazing. I performed, I grew as a human, I was meeting potential. And in a flash, my whole way of life that I’d established became threatened because of forces that made this seem like it wasn’t as bad as it really was because of ignorance, but mostly because they wanted to make money. That’s fact. I don’t need to cite sources. But I have plenty.

I also cried because I finally knew what my friends were feeling. They’ve been telling me it’s bad. It’s dead. Stay away. You’re lucky. As a clairsentient, I can feel others’ feelings, but not long distance, so much. But as soon as I saw the video, it was like I had been overwhelmed by what everyone was feeling all at once.

I called my dad and cried over the phone. I can’t cry to anyone. I do it once every six months, so it’s not too bad.

And then the funniest thing in the morning brought me peace:

I had a grapefruit with some sugar for breakfast.

And made some guacamole for lunch:

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Practicing #Baduizm #guacamole #theorphanschips

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And I made a bunch of videos you can see over on Instagram @vene_la_green_eyez, if you’re interested. People seem to like them.

It concerns me that I’ve had a lot of conversations with well-meaning people who tell me the most irrational things about this and I have to just bat my eyes and nod. You don’t wake a sleepwalker. I can’t convince them of what I think will happen, and, even if I did, I can’t save them.

I haven’t told you all I’ve seen and what I think is going to happen. I don’t know if it’s ethical to unload this stuff onto people who can’t fix things. I hope that maybe there are still ways for things to get better before points of no return lock us into a very hard time.

So, since I can’t say anything nice, I won’t say anything at all. Except that, whoever you are, take care. Be smart. We need you around. We need you for the long game.

I will never be popular for knowing the things I know and sharing them. But that’s ok. I’ve accepted my fate. Here’s something Pat McAnany said to me back in November of last year.

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