Woke up to a mess in my head ... storms ... whirlwinds ... ill-defined ramblings of late middle age.
The week. The Yazidi stuck on the Mountain for being different ... or for praying differently. The Comedian's kids left with a memory of their dripping father hanging as "Strange Fruit" .... The political animus and the talking head spinners ... or are they head-spinners. Couldn't get one of the great Bass Paul Robeson's songs out of my head ... the one about people gratuitously and grandiosely justifying the killing of other peoples. I suspect it will play in my head all day ... the pathos in his voice as he mourns -- maybe with irony towards his God -- for the massacred many ... Yisgadal, v'Yiskadash Shmei Rabah ... May the One with the Great Name be glorified and sanctified.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bcini9XJTo
Maybe if the Popes and the Dalai Lama and all us Players in the Last Quarter pray together, the Yazidi will not have to die on the Mountain where myth tells them that Noah's Ark landed .... where the Dove of Peace finally found dry ground ... may they not have to die with no one left to bury their babies!
Sad week.
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