SLITHERING INTO A WEIRD SPRING

 

Maybe all Springs are going to be weird after 2020. Here in the Phoenix Metro Area it keeps warming up, delivering beautiful, sunny but mild days, then we get more rain, cooling, then it warms up again. 

Also I keep expecting something to happen, something big, and scary. Still haunted by that bizarre day I showed up for work, and two supervisors in masks were at the door, making sure they had my correct phone number, and telling me to wait for further instructions.

Besides, by the time you read this, I’ll be in the middle of my “Gonzo Science Fiction, Chicano Style” class, trying to write a story to demonstrate how I do the voodoo that I do, exposing my creative process for examination. Which will be strange because I don’t think much about it—I just do it. I never tried to be gonzo, but looking at it, it does make a handy label to put on it.

I’ve already come up with an idea. I tried not to, but all this stuff is bombarding me, bubbling over in the back of my brain . . .

It’s inspired by the election. Sorry, I couldn’t help it.

The truth is, I don’t have as much control over this as I would like to believe.

Now, some students will know, and tomorrow, the world . . .

And me, naked before it all.

We are all naked under our clothes. We are all skeletons under the skin.

It’s what I get for agreeing to play teacher. Me, one of those kids who never liked school.

Maybe I’m more of a mentor than a teacher, but then labels come and go.

It’s not up to me to explain this. I’m the phenomenon, not an observer.

And it’s another gorgeous day with a blue sky peaking through fantastic cloudscapes. For now. Meanwhile, the news is full of hellscapes worthy of Hieronymus Bosch. Have a nice day anyway.