Yes, I still exist. I still write. I still believe writing is a worthy and noble profession-cum-spiritual path, perhaps more than ever. I just have been too bogged down with work and life, and perhaps a little sick of myself, to bother writing to you.

I will shake off this funk, don't you worry. It's just that the reality of holding a job, launching a freelance career, doing a radio show, having a marriage (it's good, don't worry!), writing for Bennington, visiting the aging grandparents, doing therapy twice weekly with the parents and whatever is left over for exercise and social life have kind of run me into the ground. Not in a "I give up" kind of way, but more in a kind of "I need a total break from contact with the world" kind of way.

At any rate, I'm pulling myself together and submitting my books to small publishers, toying with a new novel and allowing my small fiction publications to carry me on. Look for my work in the December issue of Flashquake.

I will return. Visit again, ok?

J

Yes, I need to pick myself up off the muddy floor and carry on with my life. Or should I say "Kerry on" with my life? I admit it: I'm depressed. I'm dejected. I'm disappointed in my country, in fear tactics, in the overruling addiction of our leader, and the people of this country to money, oil, power. Watching the movie "Outfoxed" tonight did not help. I realize now that the propaganda machine has been spinning for a long time, and so subtly we didn't even realize how good a job it was doing. I feel like somehow it is my job now, as part of the left, to figure out a way to be as smart and savvy about creating a successful message-making machine for the greater good. The greater good. That's not an American concept, is it?

I'm trying to be brave, to keep up my spirits, to believe in true progress. But I half expect some alien race to land here, shaking their little cosmic heads with a big apology and say: "Sorry, we gave this experiment a shot, but it just isn't working out. You'll all have to be annhilated now." I am starting to understand what it really means to be a liberal. To care about the needs and rights of the underdog, to want simple things like healthcare and clean water, and a future that is worth preserving. But it's more than that. It's not really caring about driving a fancy car or living in a big house. It's not wanting things so much as meaning. It's remembering what the arts are all about--seeking out some deeper, spiritual context in this existence that surpasses what money can buy. It's to be called an idealist, and to start to be okay with that.

I guess I just have to keep writing.

Gosh, this is hard.

I leave you with this great quote:

"Sometime in your life, hope that you might see one starved man, the look on his face when the bread finally arrives. Hope that you might have bought it or baked it or even kneaded it yourself. For that look on his face, for your meeting his eyes across a piece of bread, you might be willing to lose a lot, or suffer a lot, or die a little, even." --Daniel Berrigan, Peace Activist.

J

VOTE!

Remember: If you're refused for any reason, ask for a PROVISIONAL BALLOT, no matter what they tell you.

I'm trying not to be nervous. I'm keeping what faith I've got left. I'm trying to stay busy...but not doing a very good job.

Things have GOT to change!!!!! (Because I don't want to lose all faith in our "democracy").

Talk to you soon!

J