The Seventh

I was prepared for the January 6th committee hearing this time.

I spent the first one secured by a friend on either side of me. I spent others half awake, half asleep.

For the seventh, I sat in my art room and started clipping wire and jewelry I never wore, stringing tiny necklaces for wine glasses to wear. There was to be a party in two days.

Though I have felt such numbness in these last dark years, somehow new news of the DT administration shakes me. This particular time, as I sat cross legged in pajamas, federal representatives explained that DT had tried to order the seizure of voting machines, and planned to call his supporters to the Capitol. Then two men who attacked the Capitol explained why they had done it. One said the attack might have started another civil war, and that another civil war still might break out.

I had a few sips of coffee. The information jolted me. I didn’t want, or need, caffeine.

My sisters had covid, a colleague had covid, the friend who was to throw the beautiful party was exposed to covid. In a week, I have plans to go out of town, and the cloud of covid hangs over that, too.

I put my laptop on the mantle and walked and jumped in place, to work adrenaline out of my body, adrenaline stoked by unrest, by hope for peace and fear of everything else.

I touched my meditation app logo, and did a meditation in which I let my disappointment flow into a rock (an absorbent rock, I guess, and that did distract me).

I’m again running low on spaces to clean and organize. Luckily (I guess) a bucket of paint spilled on the floor of my pantry. And I keep pots for plants in there, so there’s dirt.

I did the fridge again.

I watch videos of orthodox Jewish women cleaning their houses for shabat or Passover. It’s so simple. It’s so clear. Just clean everything. Everything. Then it’s great.

Walking in my apartment, I think I see a puff of cat hair, reach down to grab it, see it’s a scratch in the wooden floor.

I can’t sleep.

I’ve put on a TV show or podcast that is interesting enough, not too interesting. Recently this led to a long dream about being lost in Las Vegas. Last night it didn’t work at all. I hover right where I can’t follow the narrative playing, but I also know I am not asleep, and want to be.

I get up at 1:30 and take a shower.

I eat a granola bar.

I do more crossword puzzles. When the pandemic was worst, all I could do was color in mandelas.

Crossword puzzles are better?

I want to eat chips and salsa and chocolate covered almonds.

I make myself eat some other things, too.

My immune system! Meditate! Yoga! Water! Fruit!

The arugula I got for the week was yellowish and slightly sour.

I threw it out.

My smaller cat was a political gift. She arrived on election day 2020. She usually sleeps right next to my head. She curls up and turns her head completely upside down. She’s so relaxed I can put my hand on her fluffy tummy and close my eyes. I can bury my nose in her fur and she will continue the nap. Or whatever she does. Hovering. Ready to wake in an instant if needed.

I put on podcasts discussing the hearing. I let them jumble, as I dried off from my shower, as I lay back down and tried again to sleep.

exceedingly lucky, impressionable

power for a second

dispersed some

we will take any effort

against police officers

maybe it wouldn’t be

if we do not start

Mike Pence became eight


message to

someone that something

come up with

people who

sticking a flag in DC

you’re a bunch of

Nest thermostats

rescued by the U.S. Navy

bloodied, injured, and wounded

like a Cub Scout meeting

we basically just were following

back to China


our best and

information and reach and

categorically describe

the people to take

appointed anything

why we have to tell you

it was my sentiment

for him to

profane clash

Image: Set of seven pruning tools, 1575-1600, French, Moulins, Metropolitan Museum of Art.


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