Friday, October 16 @ 12:47pm

Three weeks to US election. Ugh, politics. Hate arguing politics. Hate discussing politics, even with people I agree with. Possible seismic political shift. I hope a tectonic plate rises in the air and breaks the country in half and one chunk falls into the ocean. The survivors can then gather at the fault line and stare at the ocean like Noah and his family trying to comprehend God’s anger and Man’s madness and messiness when dealing with a common threat. Coronavirus still spreading. Cases went up and most people stayed inside and wore masks. Cases go down and people celebrate, take their masks off, hug one another, kiss loved ones, and the cases go back up. Like the stock market up and down, up and down. Is the recovery a V or W? We need better measures of social wellbeing; not price/earning ratios, earnings per share, or dividend to shareholders. Maybe meals eaten with friends or family, hours spent in quiet reflection, gardens planted during a growing season. Meanwhile, the rains have started in Qatar. The winter growing season is coming. People will plant their irrigated gardens in the sandy ground to grow tomatoes, cucumbers, and carrots-—like terraforming Mars for human habitation. The construction sites around my neighborhood are quiet. No clanking and clamor, for it is Friday, the day of congregational prayer in the Muslim world. After prayer, time is spent congregating with friends or family. Meanwhile, expats are preparing for their Friday brunches at 4- or 5-star hotels. Preparing to layer their stomachs with plates of food and pools of drink—slow cooked lamb, red wine; grilled hamour, white wine; fattoush salad, champagne; and so on. At the moment, a mynah is breaking potato chips on my balcony, and I am killing time before a coffee date. I am in a Zen state about my Bumble date. Will there be good chemistry like the acid and baking soda that causes bread to rise? Or, will the chemistry be like when you drop a mentos into a liter of Coke? Or, will it be like when you add a battery to sand? No reaction. Do not try to predict the direction of your date. Leap and the net will appear. So instead, I wonder about my winter travel—low risk countries, borders open to Americans, airplane tickets that keep climbing. I wonder about the future of my sons. Will they be on the part of the country still standing above the water, or will they be treading water looking for floating debris? Will the crowds throw ropes to my sons and the other survivors in the churning ocean? Or will the crowds offer those in the water as sacrifices, build effigies, and pray for a V- or W-shaped recovery?

Photo by Joanna Nix-Walkup on Unsplash

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