I'm fine. I didn't make it into Boston for any activism (or activity at any length) despite being invited. I avoided the news for much of the afternoon and evening because I knew I wasn't stable enough for it; I asked questions of my friends bit by bit, in little pieces I could handle. Spent the evening throwing a surprise birthday party for a dear friend and we all stuck together. I think we needed it. Came home and was finally able to look it all up myself, including pictures. I remember walking that part of Boylston many times from Gay Pride Parades and other Boston days...
I've heard from almost all of my friends, who are safe and either made it out of the city, were safe where they live/work, or found some other safe place to be, occasionally with strangers. Rev. Sunflower (the associate minister I like too much) doesn't have Facebook so I don't know, but I think Rev. Caroller (the senior minister) would have emailed us if there was anything to worry about. Rev. Sunflower lives less than 3 miles from where the bombs went off.
I wish I could make it into Boston tomorrow evening for the Arlington Street Church vigil (that's sort of my adoptive Boston church) but it's too tiring and expensive. Boston is a strong city of resilient people--we're a bunch of hardasses--and it's touching to read about all the "helpers", as Fred Rogers and his mother would say.
But it's still fucked. I cry for a world in which any people feel the need or drive to call out in such away, let alone so many in recent history. I feel plenty bruised and broken and not-whole and angry at a boatload of shit in this world almost completely driven by my own species and often race, but I am solidly standing on the side of love. It's the only place I'm ever going to be, whether I'm on my own two feet or on crutches or with a cane or on wheels or with a sodding prosthetic. And it doesn't make me a patriot despite the day of the year; it's not about My Country or My People, it's about All People and All Countries and this world that wasn't born with property lines.
Blood on Boylston. Just...damn it, I am sick of this shit. Sick of this world, sometimes, and this invasive species of which I am a member. Sometimes the good can shine through for me, the aftermath of loving kindness and support and outreach; today that doesn't seem to be the case.
But I'm okay, in the way that I'm always okay, so there isn't need to worry about that. I'm home safe with my grumbling dog. There may be two or so more not-really-personal posts from me soon and I've been able to comment a bit more lately than I have in a while, but I'm still not back back. Keep well, my dear ones; you all are in my thoughts.
(Some of this may not be as PC as I often strive to be; I apologise if I offend. Additionally, any mention of prosthesis comes from my own fears and is not a reference to the Boston Marathon or events of the day.)
[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]