On Election Day

Whether you’re ignoring the spectacle, voting third party, canvassing door to door

 

Whether you’re with her or against her

 

Whether you’re collapse-conscious

upgrading your starseed DNA

awaiting alien abduction

bingeing on Netflix

or twirling your spindle stick over a pile of cattail tinder

 

Whether you’re mystified, enraged, or just straight faced emoji about the whole thing

 

Or if you’re just sad–

–because no matter who wins

we all feel a little defeated by the spectacle

at the moment.

 

The bad news is, a legit fascist rapist demagogue rose to power and all the ugly truth of the true American Dream is roaring into view. (It should be said that, like bodycam footage, lots of us whipipo are just noticing what marginalized folks have been living with on the daily.)

 

The good news is, as my friendly neighborhood oracle Cybelle said,

it’s handy to have it all in one place,

for detonation.

 

—and—

 

It’s ok that we’re not all united

It’s ok to want to fight

It’s ok to want to hide

It’s ok to want to be excited —

 

— If only for the novelty of eating a different flavor of shit sandwich.

 

Because there isn’t a wrong way to experience a dumpster fire.

 

What I see happening is a sort of grand Parting Ways

A Waving Goodbye

With a big side of FUCK A BUNCH OF THIS

 

And people are bitterly divided

Because we cannot go on like this.

 

There has always been chaff and grain.

 

And some of us are pushing for radical change

And some of us are pushing for reactionary fear

 

And this contrast is helping us see who is on the Transition Team,

 

and who needs to get the fuck out of the way.

 

So that the rest of us can get to work. More on that in another post.

 

For now, I’ll be voting.

 

Not because I think it matters, or because I don’t believe it’s all rigged, or because it somehow reflects who I am as a person.

 

I’m voting because it’s both poetic and strategic, and because it’s something women haven’t been allowed to do for most of US history.

 

And while I find Clinton’s voice as charming as a dragging muffler, I’ll shove that barbed iron rose down the barrel of the alt-right gun if only as a promise of more effective actions to come.