Petty gods come and go

Thursday, September 19, 2013

I can’t believe it, but I’m actually disappointed it isn’t raining.

These few days have been the best of days for weather that any can remember for months, but I need to feel the rain on my face.

I’m just in the mood.

I took a walk along Newark Bay yesterday, and the slanting sun painted everything amber. It just didn’t feel right.

So I went back there this morning, and sat in my car, but the day bloomed up over me continuing where it left off.

So I drove to work, and completed the not always pleasant duty of reporting ill news.

This is a place where ill news blooms like flowers, withering almost as soon as their buds open, and I grow weary of the corruption and the pain, and the unfairness, and the dressing up rituals, and the dressing down rituals, the showing up for show, and not showing up out of fear.

Some big thuds in one part of the county bossing around scared little people to keep them in line, so the thugs can play like they are important, when thugs always end up in the same place at the end.

A place a lot hotter than July was this year.

And all I want is for the little guy to get even, and perhaps that will happen, but not likely.

The bad guys mostly get away with it, casting a few of their own to the wolves so that they can get away.

And I spend a good portion of my life writing about the process.

So I ache for rain to wash me clean, to let it all flow over me.

But the sad truth is that we have spoiled the world, soiling it with our soot, so that rain doesn’t come down the way it used to, but either evaporates high up and doesn’t come at all, or it comes in buckets that wash away more innocent people – the whether gods terrorizing ordinary folks the way the thugs do, only the gods don’t pretend to be all so important. They really are important.

They don’t have to dress up or put on a show, they just exert their will and shit happens.

I keep thinking of Sandy and all the crap that happened after it, and how one of my favorite places in the world went up in flames nearly a year later because the salt water Sandy sprayed onto the wires caused them to short.

Some shit, eh?

I guess that’s why I do what I do, to keep the thugs in their place and to make sure that when shit happens, it’s not the petty gods who get away with it.

We might not be able to fight back against the real gods, but these other sons of a bitches better watch out.