As I turn my back on the chaotic hatred of the world that America has become, my inner world has become richer and more alive.
It’s not good.
I feel like I should be more engaged with all this hostility — like somehow I should be part of the solution, whatever that is.
But then I think, Maybe my part in this mess is just to create more art, followed quickly by, Really? That seems kind of silly and self-indulgent, doesn’t it?
Well, here’s the thing: I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.
It may not be much, but it’s something.