It is 86 degrees right now as I type this. That’s the sort of temperature that I would have scoffed at when I was still a Southerner: why it’s nothing. A bagatelle, a balmy summer day. I am not a Southerner any more: I am a Pacific Northwesterner and I am DYING. I am, however, wearing my fabulous caftan and drinking a pellegrino soda so, ok, I’m dying with STYLE. But, in my considered opinion, it’s too damn hot to do anything. I did things this morning. I went to Sunday market and walked about and then went to several downtown stores where my daughter chatted with her friends and I sort of stood about. It was hot. The stores were lovely. Unfortunately, I’m too old and too poor and I don’t, actually, need anything right now except red onions, medicare for all and a universal basic income. So I bought nothing except the two pieces of art I foolishly signed up for at the 8×8 show. I love these two pieces of art but I’m really broke right now and I did not, actually, intend to buy them. I was the first bidder and I thought I would start a bidding war. Alas for my wallet, I got them. They’re gorgeous and I had to use a credit card to buy them. Like most Americans, I am hemorrhaging money right now trying to live my usual extravagant lifestyle of, oh, keeping the lights on and going to the grocery store once in a while. That’s okay! There are gladiators at the White Supremacy House – the outrage, the shock, the offensiveness of everything just keeps on going but nothing stops – and I guess they need it more than we do! Even though they probably won’t get paid.

The week that was: On Monday it rained all day and here is the deer who, probably, ate my sunflowers and my cosmos. Bah. The hell with deer. On Tuesday the rain let up for long enough to go for a walk but the clouds were thunderous. And beautiful. On Wednesday it cleared up and we went for a walk on the sawmill trail and saw this bright modern ship. Thursday, Harvey was extremely comfortable while I was getting ready for work. Friday was commencement at the college where I work, always a lovely and slightly tearful occasion. They’re all so young! Saturday, which was yesterday, I took Four – who can write her name! – to Battery Russell and then when we came home there was this dragonfly in the garden.

On a darker note, there’s another protest today and I did not attend. I’m done, I think. I have stood around holding a sign in all kinds of weather for a year and a half this time and four years the last time and it has accomplished exactly fucking nothing. I get that building community is important and showing people that they are not alone is important and, well, I still have no community and I don’t think anyone thinks they are alone any more. They just think they are powerless and unfortunately, it sure looks like they’re right. Could we change this? Oh yes, yes we could. Will we? I doubt it. We’re full into the collapse of the United States and nobody seems motivated to do anything except occasionally stand on Marine Drive waving a sign and a flag around. This is how unimportant that is: the fascists are not even making lists. They’re not even bothering to counter protest. There’s nothing brave about protesting at this point: nobody cares. The fascists are just laughing at us, all the way to the bank.