6:19 am. Lying awake I began hallucinating something about wolves and tried to remember, so I could describe it. My mind has spun out of orbit from trying to hold out hope.
Media is a disease and it can’t be cured. If men go in there as men, they become monsters. If women go in there, they live to regret it.
Unless you are Rachel Maddow–don’t go in there and try to turn the big wheel of rage and conviction. Not as a woman.
Knowing I can’t know anything, or generate knowledge, I listen to the Oracles, the men in media, explaining to the other men in media, what is going on now in terms of catastrophe and perpetual emergency.
Who mints the Oracles? Who designates their power over our perspectives? There are some women on TV but they are without sleeves, always. I wonder if they aren’t cold, and why they have to show their arms. It keeps bothering me. Like it’s some kind of skin-tax, before they are allowed to talk.