There's a march I want to go to tomorrow, the Justice for All March,
starting at 10 a.m. at 15th and Market. I'm a little afraid they're
going to close down the bus lines going there. My foot being swollen,
I'll be walking with a cane.
Despite my poison pen
and big mouth against racism and for civil rights, I'm really a lazy
coward. I have all kinds of anxieties just leaving my place. That's why I
plan my schedule to the minute. Nothing kills me like empty time.
Then
being in a crowd is an anxiety inducer. Then I add in the more rational
fears, of arrest, teargassing, brutality or harassment. Fear of being
in jail for days, of not getting to write, of having my picture taken,
of missing my medication doses, and of missing my cat. Those are the
only ones I could think of.
It seems that after
decades of therapy and psychiatric drugs, my recovery has left a lot of
loose ends. Tonight I'm just sad and tired. The writing didn't go as
well today as it should have. I go to bed hoping that the night's dreams
reset my mood for tomorrow.
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