Being unemployed sucks rotten eggs. I have been trying to think of positive, clever things to write all week. "Being unemployed sucks." was all I had until today. But, as you can see, I was able to find a way to embellish the phrase.

It just sucks. I have this ever-present, under-lying feeling of disconnect. Like standing on the edge of the double jump ropes, trying to feel out the timing to jump in. I hated that feeling: a pit of acid in my stomach, every muscle in my body tense, hands balled into fists. Imagining the rope would decapitate me if I messed it up, or maybe praying it would. But, it was only ever three or four beats, and then a jump into a stream of rhythm. A jump into sing-song voices; the hypnotic crack of wound cotton on macadam; shouts-laughter-hard-soled-shoes-running across the lot, in the background.

My family moved frequently when I was growing up. I attended two different schools in first grade. I mark those past years with my siblings births, and tie events to the houses we lived in with the number of us alive at the time. I have memories from all the places: the feel of sunlight falling on my skin, the shadows from the sunlight on my toys, the sounds of traffic, the stream at the edge of the parking lot cutting along the apartment complex, the short cut, the stream under the fallen tree bridge. My memories do not have many people in them, though. I can feel being in places, and picture the spaces I breathed in. The world of artifacts is sensible and tangible. I cannot picture the adults, or feel the presence of other children I was not related to. The world of people is clouds and shadows.

Books, music, art. They were my traveling companions during the years I grew within my parents lives. People move in and out of life, but artifacts persist. People have become more solid as I have settled down, but I have yet to find stable ground.

I think that is why I have always been so fascinated by Community. I move within the infrastructure, the intricacies of social organization. A solid and tangible world. The inhabitants of the structure, however, frequently feel translucent, illusory. This despite the fact I know: inhabitants are creators of the infrastructure. I read their books. I see their art. I hear their music. I live within their walls.

The disconnect between human ideals and human reality astounds me. We walked on the moon. We are on Mars. Millions starve from famine. We use the term 'illegal aliens,' and ship people off to places where they fear for their lives. Places where they are killed. We wage war. We delineate have 'Haves' and 'Have Nots' through violence, and spin a narrative to justify the slaughter and inequity as morally proper, as only 'human nature.' We trace this narrative through documentation going back to a time when it had to be written on mud tablets, chiseled into stone. Across this blue globe, records from different 'civilizations' documenting and justifying violence and inequality, across thousands of years.

Yet, despite access to so much of the anthropocene documentation and the tools to decode it, as a species, we have been unable to stop this insensible history. Why? There is no good answer. Why did you allow the toddlers to burn down the village and salt the fields? There is no good answer. Why has violence and destruction been favored over beauty and cooperation? There is no good answer.

We must come out of the cave before it becomes our tomb. The narrative must be dug out of fear, away from the justification of greed and avarice, out of the violence required to contain existence in restrictive privatization. The narrative must be rooted in an open place of joy, believed in, embodied, and repeated over and over again by more and more voices.

We have brought our habitat to the brink of unrecognizable change, and yet...And Yet: That Fact Is Still Being Denied. Warnings came out, in print, over a century ago. Insensible history. Narrative of violence. We must control the narrative.

Yep. This is what I think about while unemployed. Anyone have some job leads for a system thinker data geek who likes to throw epic parties?

Anyhoo, let us return to essentials.

How about some whisky, or a nice mimosa?

Come now, time for apéro. O yeah, here we go:

Apéro

Ham, Turkey, 3 Salami, Provolone, Swiss, Parmasean, Prosciutto wrapped Cantalope & Honey Dew with Walnuts and Fresh Basil

Smoked Scottish Salmon, Cream Cheese w Capers, Red Onion, 2 Tomatoes, Cucumber, Pickles with Fresh Basil

Black Pepper Chips, Peppered Olive Oil and Dijon