Monday, November 2, 2020.
I’m so scared I’m sick.
I just want to throw up. I can’t even handle a cup of coffee.
My boss wants to go over the case list this morning. That’s how we plot out what we’re focusing on in November.
I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Either I’m going to be grateful to lose myself in work or I am not going to be able to process or remember anything he tells me.
I don’t even know if I’m going to be capable of working again.
I can’t breathe.
I don’t know how anyone in this country can be oblivious to what’s on the line.
But as Gary and I remarked a few weeks ago when watching a Dick Cavett show from 1970 with Salvador Dali, Satchel Paige, and Lillian Gish, “Oh my God, listening to this, it’s shocking how much America has devolved in fifty years! Can you imagine this show on in 2020?”
And then a few nights later, we watched another 1969 Cavett show where Garson Kanin was a guest. Kanin was a brilliant writer, married to the actress, Ruth Gordon.
Kanin discussed a book of short stories he had just written, and how after it was published, he went to a party in Hollywood and everyone there had read it and rushed over to ask if one of the characters was based on them.
Did you read what I just wrote?
People at a party, in Hollywood, were discussing a book of short stories by a great American writer.
Everyone there had read it.
A. book. of. short. stories.
My writer pals reading this know exactly what I’m saying.
Omg, how much we’ve devolved isn’t even a little bit funny.
We’re scarily stupid.
So I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, other than unless it’s a resounding defeat, he’s going to fight it.
I don’t want to think about it.
I really don’t feel well.
I’m scared.
Happy Monday.
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