HAPPY BASTILLE DAY (RACIST PRICKS)

Church

Last night, I dreamt that an old, now distant friend had died. The funeral was Roman, triumphal. Afterward, Pillow and I swam with leopards. They bit us a little, but it didn't hurt. I woke. I watched several episodes of One Tree Hill and The Sopranos. I wrote for a while.

Try as I might, I just can't be happy on Sunday. School dread, the notion that any pleasure is finite (wholly unlike Saturday or Tuesday). And try as might, I just can't shake how good I am at being blue. I give into it completely. I mix a bloody and listen to this, over and over and over. I think of no one in particular, but myself and warm weather and other clothes and calendars and cars.

Newsies

A few things potentially more important than nail polish--

--The Post has provided us with another phrase for everyday use: "sex foul."

--A&P has Mrs. Clinton on the collective mind.

--The Palestinian death toll in Gaza now tops 300 (well over half are civilians). Israeli losses are 13 (ALL soldiers). I have been bereft about the ugly crimes committed by our government in the name of "our safety," driven mad by our lack of agency, by how capable of variously trouncing human rights and other nations' sovereignty without the input of American citizens or allies the Bush administration (over the past eight years) or the C.I.A. (always) have been. I feel similarly about Israel. I am thoroughly disgusted by their military brutishness and religious self-importance. I am ashamed by any association. For me, this single-minded, warring state is more "German" than Jewish.

Up With People

In a purchasing rut/freeze, I still need to affect change in my apartment. So I will buy a couple of yellow sawhorses and some packs of Rit dye. I am not wildly crafty, not a brilliant builder, but I can certainly prop planks. And, personally, I love the inconsistent, drippy, at-home-disaster look of a dress or curtains given a Rit bath.