Today's Word: Strung

He unwound from the post and slipped as mercury does, slow and malicious, down the side of the bed until he rested in a crouching pool of intent.

Getting over busy spell here at work. Other distractions have kept me away from writing, and last night I finally got back on that millstone to generate nouns and verbs. Forgot the liberation of creating text, and that is a sad revelation in itself.

Tomorrow (or today depending on where you are) marks a global day of protest again the war in Iraq. Information here, including searchable database on the nearest place to non-violently raise some hell. Looking over my shoulder I can't believe it's been two years already, with 1,500 American troops and an estimated 100,000 Iraqis dead. All for lies. All for conquest dreams and imperial aspirations. Two years ago, my wife and I were in a restaurant, celebrating a monthly installment of our anniversary. TVs normally tuned to college basketball playoffs were locked on cable news channels, one I remember with a countdown clock, as if we were ringing in a macabre New Year with night-vision tracer rounds and on-air explosions. Remote cameras fixed on Baghdad, a Disneyland of the damned. A few weeks later, my wife and I would be in England, taking in ancient sites while bombs reduced the cradle of civilization to dust. Everything we did was shadowed by war, and everything we do now in America is followed by the rolling carnage. It is a grisly suitor who cannot be dismissed, but tomorrow millions of voices will vent their frustrations to try.

I'm not sure if I'm going to take part. I've been drained of revolutionary juice since the November election, and I wonder what good will it do to take to the streets when those who maintain this war cling like addicts to their vision of the world. How can you reason with opponents who craft fake news reports and regularly deceive and conceal? Do we really think the masses in the streets will pull at their heart strings, will awaken their consciences a la Dickens' three ghosts on Christmas Eve?

Yet staying home is coward's way out. Something must be done, but what? You can't "out evil" these people in power. You can't talk sense to their Fox News/Free Republic ilk. You don't want in to give to the frothing flag wavers and let them run roughshod. You educate yourself with independent and foreign media; you get a bigger, better picture of what's happening and then you are doubly bummed out. Maybe being in a massive crowd will lift the spirits. Maybe they, with their signs and chants, need this boost to their karmic batteries. Strength in numbers, glances with hopeful eyes saying, "I'm not alone." It's how movements build. It's how democracy is supposed to work. It gives solace to the forlorn, and strength to the advocates. Faces of youth and of the wrinkled, skin tones diverse, and all that. Marching and being seen. A slow, benign army. Look, listen, know we are here.

I don't know if I'll be there, but I hope tomorrow is a peaceful day.