I’ve tried to write. I’ve tried to read. But it’s pretty much impossible to concentrate on either when there’s some live Orwellian dystopian shit going down in middle America. I have Ancillary Justice on my e-reader, I have de Bodard and Griffith and Elizabeth Hand and I can’t even.
Media blackouts and snipers and tear gas and politicians/journalists being arrested for taking video recordings and because… what? Some folks did about as much damage in reaction to a cop killing an unarmed kid as you find in a southern town after a particularly exciting SEC football game? The Bill of Rights have been suspended in a city in America, a teenage kid is dead and more have been injured all at the hands of police, and if you care as much about some TV’s being stolen as all that? Stay the hell away from me.
I don’t have words. Not adequate ones, anyway. The racism in the media coverage (and lack of coverage) of these events has been appalling, as has the racism of law enforcement involved. I hope to be book blogging again soon, because I know that even though my brain doesn’t work that way, for a lot of people horror is made more bearable with the escapism that fiction provides.
But today, my mind and heart are in Missouri.