Went down to the beach this morning to walk the dog. Crisp morning, low tide, peaceful. I take a beach bag whenever I walk to pick up some of the plastic that washes up with regularity matched only by the tides. Every so often I find some discarded flotsam that carries identification of sorts. Today I found a geographical message in a bottle, something I always take as an omen. What, I wondered as rocks slid underfoot, could a tiny glass bottle with a broken neck, stamped with a hecho en Mexico suggest, possibly represent?
And my early Sunday morning mind immediately goes Ctrl-Alt association to the Chuck Palahniuk novel Doomed that I am listening to on audio tape. The guy who penned Fight Club took this one to an another extreme. To say that CP is ‘out there’ doesn’t do justice to his craft. He strings sentences and ideas together much like a fisherman on a lonely seashore might string his net together. Connecting this to everything. Points A to B. The interconnectivity of my beach combing clean-up to the shores of Tripoli.
It is Earth Day 2018. We have treated our Mother with such disdain and indifference, no longer even attempting to cover up the damage that profit sees collaterally, watching as climate change and pollution foul the sea, sky, deserts and forests. Our questionably elected leaders brazenly want to open National Monuments and protected open spaces to the highest bidders. For oil, minerals or pelts. For dollars.
Now I am a little upset, how could we have sunk so low? How, after all the horrid examples on file, from cancer to radiation, oil spills to acid rain, floating masses of intertwined plastic to beaches not suitable for swimming, do we allow the current corruption, fraud and utter denial of science to be rule of law? Now I am pissed. FUCK.
I used to think that instead of posting speed limit signs, States, especially mine that until a few years ago, before Microsoft, Amazon and Starbucks, was considered a model for environmentalism and eco activism, should post signs that read, Littering is a Felony, I would much rather see polluters do the time that is currently being done by black pot heads.
A Honker proudly announces her landing intentions on the tide pool now reflecting the blue sky and pink morning clouds overhead. Tito brings me a stick for chasing consideration. A gust of fresh air blows my hoodie from top to back. I look down and see the neck of the bottle.
A perfect fit.
No comments:
Post a Comment