The trees are beginning to leaf out. Spring! I’m going about humming Tom Lehrer. (As one does.) There are two more garden boxes set up. They won’t be used right away, soil prep for the clay and dry shade is just beginning. Leafy greens will go in one box, the others will hold what I affectionately call a witch’s garden–rue, mugwort, things of that sort. (We must wear our rue with a difference, always.) Not until next year though–this year is for cover crops. Oats and field peas, planted then allowed to die down in winter to provide mulch. I may even put some massive daikons in–they’re good at breaking up clay. Since grass won’t grow in that upper part of the yard, I’m forced to other measures. (Like I ever need an EXCUSE to grow mugwort, but still…)
I’ve calmed somewhat after yesterday’s irritation. I can laugh at the hapless idiocy now, instead of being vexed at the insult to my intelligence or my books. There is one more small thing I wanted to say.
It seems absolutely insane to me that people can use a few “bad” words to level the charge of “obscenity” in an attempt to censor a work of literature, or any other art. It seems rather a misuse of the word.
You want to know what’s obscene? Extraordinary rendition. Children starving to death. The rate of incarceration in America. Racism. Sexism. Xenophobia. The current Republican party’s platform, policies, and behavior. Guantanamo Bay. Drones. Security theater in our airports that doesn’t make us safer, only accustoms us to ever-increasing violations of privacy. Dogfights, cockfights. MRAs harassing, doxxing, and threatening women. A child’s body left on the pavement for four and a half hours. War.
Those are obscene. Not books. Not art. At best, art can only faithfully mirror our own twisted selves.
*sigh* Now I’m disgusted all over again. Time to go back to revising. I may even throw in a few extra fucks, shits, goddammits, and cuntwhistles for good measure. Maybe even a dicklicking motherfucking shitsucking douchenozzle or two.
Over and out.