30 Comments

I think many of us are driving around trying to find out where we are. Even those of us who have gotten good at acceptance are having difficulty dealing with the news. Hope is a fickle bitch.

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I feel like there’s been a death in my family. I look at people and wonder how are they laughing like nothing happened? Then I think, are you one of them? And if I, a 66 year-old white lady, feel unsafe I can’t even imagine how the most vulnerable must feel.

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It really does feel like that. Maybe it’s the death of any last shred of innocence about who America is.

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This made me laugh out loud!

"It’s my first Friday night in Texas, apparently."

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"So it’s strange they won’t just say what they believe."

This. Why won't they say it? Shame? They seem pretty shameless. They don't want to be disliked? Too late, buddy.

I don't get it.

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Any motel room that has that dog in it is far from the shittiest in Texas—or anywhere. ❤️

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Loved this post, on many levels.

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They should give you a Texas Highways appliqué for whatever sweatshirt or other shirt you want to put it on. Or a hat. Funny how that publication tends to be read by a lot of different people, various political persuasions, etc.

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I gardened yesterday morning and this morning in a place that always brings me joy and was grateful to be there. Yesterday afternoon and this afternoon , as I drove around to take care of some errands, I realized I wasn't ready to be in the world, yet, as the trucks with their flags and the cars with their bumper stickers and the houses with their yard signs only made me remember your perfect take (and forgive me if I paraphrase): "I can't believe how much this fucking country hates women."

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I was going to cancel the road trips I have planned, but I think I'll take them. I've deleted the last social media app from my phone. I had forgotten why you go places. It's not to take pictures to share. It's to go there. I can still do that. (and yeah I'll share photos here because while words are great, but before we had words, we had eyes.)

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I think they’re good for me, road trips. I don’t know. It was better than staring at the wall. Maybe it just feels better to be doing anything when I don’t know what to do.

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Stay south of I 40. Tons of snow up here above Tucumcari.

Rather than drive, I chose to nap. Roads are closed these last couple days. But snow is a blanket, so, nap. Loved the Woddie pic. Made my afternoon.

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Yeah I saw there’s a bunch roads closed. I’m gonna wait to do the panhandle bit of this project. Stay warm.

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You could get to Tucumcari if you’re Willin’.

Sorry. 🙂

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I finally went for a drive today just so I could scream without scaring anybody.

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I think Woody is just polite and doesn’t want to hurt a stranger’s feelings.

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Are you in Ballinger for some reason?!

Btw, I was driving on 71 in your direction the last weekend of Oct--possibly the prettiest drive in Texas (Brady to Austin)--at least before the last 50 mi became endless vistas of subdivisions. The density of flags, banners, and signs alarmed even me, old sinking feeling. Learned about Allison from Susie Bright's substack yesterday; both have been lodestars/idols since the early 90s. You're a good heir to that legacy btw. But damn. Very sorry for us all.

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Don’t ever think that you don’t have the fight. There’s a world that depends on people like you. A little rough sometimes but just what this fucking thing is calling for.

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Damn it. I didn’t hear about Dorothy Allison.

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Ah shit. I’m sorry. I don’t know many details. Just that she’s gone. I don’t really want to read someone else on her. Depends who it is I guess. I’m sorry.

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I remember seeing her win the Bay Area Book Reviewers Assn award for best memoir the year her Bastards book came out -- some time in the 90s. I was a hanger-on shadow writer at the time, still LONGING, like I longed for oxygen, to write a book, a story, a poem, anything that would have me seen. Still untreated PTSD and married to Mr Perfect the former priest. She kind of hobbled up to the mic, and she said, "Last year I was broke, unable to get out of bed, (and listed a bunch of other terrible things), and here I am now." She got a standing ovation. She was just so fucking real. It was really memorable. I felt her fragile/powerful authenticity. Like, she's been through some shit. And maybe I could write some real shit, too. (Still working on that.)

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I saw someone posted a regret that Molly Ivin's was no longer around to give us her take on it all. I have felt that way a lot the past 8 years. About her, and my dad.

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