Tell me I’m making it all up for myself

Haven’t been here for a while. Cooling my heels on maybe half a dozen posts for which I have content materials assembled and the writing just awaiting the typing I don’t feel like doing against the relentless pass rush of AutoCorrect/AI.

Stranded, I guess. My principal emotion is akin to what I felt back in 2019, when I took a year off from this site because who can write about dread every day? Like then, my mind is telling me the Dark Age is upon us because we don’t deserve to be saved from the fate our enemies intend for us. They’re brain-damaged sociopaths; a near majority of us are just brain-damaged. Good guys and bad guys both done in by appalling lack of education and undeveloped consciousness skills at foreseeing consequences from a Universe-of-One perspective. I don’t like gas prices at the pump, I don’t like the way Trump talks so mean, and the Iran thing I just don’t get, so I won’t vote this time. Fine. We get what we deserve as a nation. That’s the real American Way. No other nation’s people can say that, because whatever they think, they are living in an American world crafted and/or over-indulged by America.

So screw it. Feeling like this is how I came to write The Death of the Republic in 2021. Do I owe you anything at the moment? Not to my mind. But it’s a time of day when I usually write something, and here I am, and so here goes…

Saw this by accident the other day looking for something else. It made a strong impression on me. Here it is:



I was struck by the staging of the video itself, and I was struck by her. Couldn’t understand a word she was singing, though the title wasn’t promising, but she seemed somehow authentic to me. That combination of the out-of-place AC/DC shirt, her closeness to the microphone as if hanging onto it with both tattooed hands for support, her tentative, vulnerable swaying in place, and a voice that unreasonably reminded me of a subdued and melancholy Janis, hungover or just coming down from a rough night. She was all alone in the room. The equidistant positions of the three persons made them not a band but a sterile composition of the director. I felt her aloneness in the room.

She’s been through it, I thought. Through something. She’s no Taylor Swift, churning out another clone hit. And she definitely wrote this song, even if it’s about Alanis Morisette, not high on my girl singers list.

After watching it again didn’t decipher the lyrics for me, I looked them up.


Not much help. On the video I could hear her inside the words. I looked her up. Yes, she’s been through it, plenty of it, and trying to come out the other side. Listened to a couple more songs that didn’t impress me the same way.  I’ll let you see them, though you have the option not to. But I’ll be hanging on to this video, or at least the memory of when I first looked at it. I have a few girl singers I go back to from time to time. Now I have one more.






All I have for you today. Maybe next time…

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