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Hermitage Diary II

Day 5 10/26/2020

Still a little upside down with the clock. I get up, make coffee, chant my Psalm and read a chapter of Jeremiah, celebrating the times we’re in. I find that if you substitute certain current words and characters, the message is current:

· Tell this to the nations, proclaim concerning the [US]; a besieging [pandemic] is coming from a distant land, raising a [death] cry against the cities of the [States].

· Your conduct and actions have brought this on you.

This is your punishment, how bitter it is, how it pierces to the heart!

· Disaster follows disaster, the whole land lies in ruins…

· My people are fools; they do not know me.

They are senseless children; they have no understanding.

They are skilled in doing evil, they know not how to do good.

· At the sound of the [firetrucks and ambulances] every town takes to flight.

Some go to into the [shelters] and some [evacuate] among the rocks.

All the towns are deserted, no one lives in them.

· What are you doing, you devastated one?

Jer 4

Day 6 10/27/2020

Rain all day. I do not see another human being the entire day. Odd, even in Princeton at the heaviest of lock down, I would go out walking and see other people, ghosts in masks walking down the middle of the empty streets. No one here but me this wet day. I putter—as one does on dark days—and finish up a couple of projects, then walk my circuit in the pouring rain, 20 turns around the garden—2700 steps—in raingear and winter hat and wet shoes. Ah to be in England…

Halfway through the circuit, when I pause and look over the gate to the cemetery, I am deeply conscious each time of Samhain coming, and think of how I might invite my beloved dead to a Dumb Feast with no other guests. I shall have to ask for candles.

Of course, Samhain will be accompanied by a full Blue Moon, a near-miss asteroid, gargantuan wildfires in California, a new hurricane approaching Florida, another Black man murdered in the city… and the election. Well, girls, put on your eyelashes, glue sparklers to your tits, get out your most outrageous 11” high-heels and your fishnet stockings, tuck your candy out of sight, and grab your Dolly Parton wig: there’s going to be a partay tonight!

Despite Jeremiah, one must surely believe that God loves drag.

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