Hatred Runs Deep

I’m not a people person and I’ll bet that surprises precisely NO ONE. This election has validated all my fears, disgusts and despisings of humanity.

I live in a predominantly white neighborhood which has always weirded me out. More so now more than ever though—it just doesn't feel safe. Yes, I'm probably overreacting—falling victim to my panic over what's to come in January.

Our neighbors to the right are immigrants from somewhere in Eastern Europe. They don’t speak much English (from what Jen tells me) but they aren’t at all unfriendly. Our neighbors to the left are awesome—supportive, warm and definitely, rationally left wing. I know there are a few republicans around here but, after 20 years in the neighborhood, they seem quiet. Hopefully they'll remain so.

I know...how would I know if they’re flaming, loud mouthed bigots or not? I keep to myself, rarely go out, and I'm not outgoing. Also, I’m deaf. Also too, when I’m out walking, I’m very much focused on staying upright, not falling over while watching the seagulls and waves. I don’t socialize beyond maybe waving hello. My walks are about building strength, attempting to improve my balance and getting a little fresh air. It's about rehab, not mix and mingling.

Being a misanthropic, deaf and disabled woman living in blue, blue Massachusetts means that I’m mostly shielded from the clueless, unevolved motherfuckers who poison the planet with their monstrous stupidity, their cruel and abysmally myopic hatred for all those who aren’t exactly like them. 

I know that, once Trump kills Medicare and Social Security, my death won’t be as far off as I’d like. Without affordable healthcare, without the bucks to fund my unfortunate surgery addiction, I die. All because a majority of Americans cherish their hatred of anyone who’s not a white, wealthy, straight, “christian” more than they care about reality. OR they just couldn't be arsed to vote.

And now a poem by Charles Bukowski:
The Genius Of The Crowd

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art