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We live in an age of uncertainty.
A fatal amount of Covid-19
could have just
lodged in the membranes
of our eyes.
(Yes, we can catch it that way)
Or we become a victim of
violence
by uttering a
micro-aggression
of which we were unaware.
When did we get so
thin-skinned anyway?
I feel many of our
great grandparents
who survived
the depression
would tell us it was
past time to
grow up.
even suggesting that a white male monarch could speak for and to all humanity.
The ghost of Mark Twain whispered in my ear, and I wrote back
that I would try to "man up" to these changing times.
But back to writing in these uncertain times.
I am not a Titan of Literature, but I have read and listened to many of them.
Take Harlan Ellison whose ghost visited my blog long ago:
https://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2019/12/art-isnt-supposed-to-be-easyiwsg.html
He would say that the very uncertainty, the very danger of our times
provides grist for the mill of our minds.
The above image should spark a dozen story ideas to us.
Yes, we are scared by the rioting, the plague killing our children now, and by the economic ruin hovering over the horizon.
Michelangelo didn't let the ache in his arms, the spasms in his back
keep him from crafting the masterpiece, the Pietà.
Samuel Pepys lived through the London Fire, the Plague, and restive political unrest that could have resulted in his execution.
But he kept writing the journal that is studied by students to this day.
We can take the idiocies of conflicting demands being ignored
and make of them a riveting story or novel born of what we see and feel.
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
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