Good morning. Today is Saturday, February 21. I’ve decided I’m not going to post about politics here, at least not often. It’s not what a lot of you signed up for. That said, I’m still going to write on social and political issues over on my Substack if you want to check it out/subscribe.
My thinking is that in a world of things, I’ve generally found that any and some things are better than none things. If I can offer anything more than nothing, that’s something. And since this administration has potentially another 3 years or so to go, I’ll be doing something more than nothing in protest of its dehumanization of people, its profits-above-all approach, its grift and greed and its allegiance to the billionaire class. So, Substack for some of that, and Waiting for the Last Gasp for the rest of the writings.
Speaking of which, it’s been a minute since I’ve posted, or it feels like it, anyway. But then, I always feel endlessly behind. My email inbox, both work and personal, hasn’t been at 0 in possibly ever, maybe since the dawn of email, which for me took the form of a hotmail account in about 1995.
Some of this has to do with me sending myself emails: usually articles to read, but also trips to take someday, or “things to do this weekend” that I rarely do, how-to videos for some skill I want to learn, or a volunteer gig I’ve never gotten around to volunteering my time for because even though I don’t have much going on in my life I still manage to feel like I’m busy. Somewhere in there I have an email subject line “Breakthrough banjo course.” I sent this to myself in 2024. I have a banjo. I have not yet learned it (I did take 6 lessons). In the end, I think usually what I’m busy doing is worrying.
Worrying about all the stuff I should be doing. About work. About money. About relationships. About the health of my parents. About not achieving my dreams, not remembering my dreams, not dreaming. About what feels like my perpetual failure. In late 2025 I started going to therapy for the first time in 20 years, tired of my relentless inner voice, exhausted by me. You all may be thinking the same thing: Please, be quiet.
I think what I need is a vacation. Having hung back from traveling this winter has been a chore.
Some time away in the woods always seems to do the trick, a place where I can wander without distractions among tall, straight pines in coastal climes, grab a handful of green needles and break them open and smell that smell that reminds me of what feels real, and what is artifice. Trees are real. The earth they grow from is real. We grew from it too. Things would be so much easier if I were a tree. Except people might pee on me.
If I were a tree, would you pee on me?
If you were a dog, and I was a log
rotting in some old bog?
And you were a frog?
Would you pee on me?
Thinking about titling that “Reinkinknation” or “Streams of consciousness.”
Two last things, one that lifted my spirit, one that shattered it.
Thing 1: Someone crafted a homemade tiny lifejacket for their pet goldfish. I am in awe of how big some people’s hearts are, and usually these are the people who extend seemingly exaggerated kindness to animals, though sometimes I admit these people — who usually are huggers — can seem crazy at first. But if you get to know them better, just observing their expansive capacity for love can awaken a world you didn’t know was inside you.
Thing 2: Two women stopped in front of a home in Minneapolis the other day pretending to have car trouble. They approached the door of Jesus Flores, a mechanic with a wife and four kids. Jesus came to help, and multiple additional ICE agents pulled up and grabbed him and drove off. His kids wonder where daddy went.
Here are some charities I am giving to this week:
Lake Street Council, supporting especially the restaurant industry, and which you can read more about here, at Racket. They need you now.
For broad based support, the Saint Paul and Minnesota Foundation,
The Minneapolis Foundation, which has created targeted funds for helping to rebuild after ICE.
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