Notes from the Post-it Wall |Week of November 1, 2020
I look forward to knowing the indisputable results of the presidential election so that we can enjoy our holiday season debating whether “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is a rape song or not. (It is. That’s how shit got done in President Truman’s America.)
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?