Cold November hands. Dancing in the grocery store. Jack and I bob our heads to Earth wind and fire. People looked annoyed. I’m just acting out, I’m in the fuck it stage of grief. Going into the numb stage. With a pint of fear under my belt. I must keep it together for my kids, to an extent. I’ve been hanging out more at parks and talking to people in person where ever I am, I’ve found a lot of solace finding out everyone’s not an asshole. I still judge them and wonder about them. I wonder if they voted for Trump or if they didn’t vote at all. I wore my Hilary button for a few days, I couldn’t believe how many people came up and talked to me, shared stories of being disappointed and worried about our Government. I wanted people to know I don’t support Trump. Today I realized it doesn’t matter anymore because we’re all in this together. Whatever shit is about to happen; we’ll have to deal with it as a country. Or we are doomed. (and maybe we already are) But I am still alive. I have work to do. I can’t prevent everyone’s suffering. I missed the studio today, I kept jack and Fiona up all day. I woke up at 4:30am and knew I wouldn’t last long tonight. I wanted to make sure they are as tired as me, with the early dark skies it’s a treat to crawl into bed early. Tonight, it’s going to be cold. A cold November night. This weekend I will be meeting with people, I am doing a talk at the Fourth Wall Gallery in Oakland about my Book project. Tomorrow night I am going to a neighborhood meeting I helped start. Fifteen people are attending; I can’t believe it. It all started because I posted “Does anyone know of an anti-Trump rally this weekend”. I was flagged. I was told to “Grow up” and “get over it, I’m just mad because we lost”. Then a ton of people came to my rescue. They said I did nothing wrong. Then this lady asked if we all wanted to start a discussion group to start healing together as a neighborhood. And possibly turn it into some action, helping in our community somehow. The very next day, after the connections were met I deleted my Facebook account and my Nextdoor account. Now I’m on Twitter and Instagram. I feel the need to share my writing and my paintings. But I don’t want to get into the mousetrap of politics on the Internet. (Unless it’s a real news article). But I don’t want to trade comments or constantly be bombarded with all the atrocities in the world. It’s too damn depressing. I’d rather read about it and talk to someone in person. Preferably over a bottle of wine!