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[onefellswoop]

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[necropolitical]

A serious thing needs speaking: Vevay, nothing was dredged up. There's no turmoil, or none that you caused. What you call the horrors of war, we call life. It's a life we prepared for.

Here, think of it so: you live under a post-capitalist imperial superpower where fascism is steadily on the rise, and where your own existence makes you a target of violence and rejection. You don't know if your country will defend you against even your fellow countrymen. There is always the chance that it won't.

Is this horror or just an unfortunate reality? It's both. But if you think of it as a horror, you fall into despair, don't you?

If you speak of the ways you fight to exist and how you've survived, isn't it better? Your tattoos, your [...] shoe pump, your children, your cello, the music you write. What you do with your heart. You feel your own capability to thrive in spite of the horror.

I feel often that I have no import, no use, no excuse for the wasted life I believe I've lived. I forget, and yes, I fall into despair.

Then I speak of my scar. You dredged up pride, Vevay. Not horror. I'm proud, in a way. Not like Americans, proud of just being Americans and of standing for their flag instead of the other way, the flag a symbol for them? It's not so, here. We are not Ukraine. Ukraine is us. But we are fighting for freedom, too though who is invading America that they need to fight for freedom always, who fucking kn.

Maybe pride is the wrong word. [...] I feel it's my [...] social contract. My responsibility to protect myself, my family, my neighbors. So I do, and that's good. That's right.

Pride is what I feel for my son.

And for a man who says his heart -

His beautiful heart, that he holds out with both hands, is mine if I'll have it.

How can anything be a horror? How can a man look at these terrible things in life and not feel filled with wonder and joy - because he has something worth all of it?

And I have two somethings.

[...]

Here, this: If I think a subject will inspire horror or sorrow or anger, I'll tell you so - as I did about Deforest. Perhaps I'll ask to speak about it some other time if I wish not to turn the mood sour.

...Generally speaking, that subject will be Madeline.

I won't leave you uncertain, Vevay.