You Can’t Heal – 3

Residing in the light of knowing there’s an end date to my time in Chicago, it helps alleviate some of the pressure and the monotony of the day to day. Regardless, yesterday at work was rough, not like I actually went to the office, not in these Covid19 working from home (for the most part) days, but seeing as how we’ve been working in this way for over nine months, it is the new normal. And in this country, where nobody gives a fuck about anybody else (anti-maskers? Seriously – you all can eat a dick), this work from home thing isn’t going to change anytime soon.

Go to the movies? Nope.

Go hear a band or out to dinner? Nuh-uh.

Get on public transportation? Not if I can help it.

This has certainly contributed to the hollowness of this city, at least as I relate to it. And last night the (kind of) president was in Georgia bitching about the election, again. While the Proud Boys are flying into DC, again. Hawley and Cruz and Johnson playing along, again. Make claims of mass fraud, without evidence. Repeat claims of mass fraud, ad nausea. When people start to believe your repetitions, use this to further your demands. Circular logic spinning the country down the toilet bowl while 45 tries to float on the surface composing tweets he calls leadership.

Makes you feel like smashing something. Makes you feel like smashing a lot of things, on the regular.

Instead I move from the couch to the desk and call it going to work.

Have a nice day,

Drake