I’ve tried to block out so much from my conscious mind–mainly the horror that is national news these days, but also tiresome personal narratives–that I find myself staring at the blank page a lot, with not much left to say.

I seem to have two settings: dark, and boring.  The mundane, tedious stuff I tend to post these days isn’t who I really am, but what’s left after you eliminate angsty rants and lost chances.  It all comes down to the trivia of daily subsistence, and a few remaining embers of hope.  Modest hopes, for sure, but if you’re human and not dead yet, you can never entirely stamp out hope.  It’s how we live another day.  It’s how we survive a monster like trump.

Anyway, here’s another dawn.