a toast

There is a Bjork song I listened to once and I posed the question asked in the song to my car partner. "Where is the line with you?" AT the time I was referring to sexual perpetuity I wanted to assure myself we were congruous. As with all things at this very particular time in my life this memory and Bjork's query has taken on new meaning and received a new context. So where is the line? The surer I become about what it is I ought to be doing the more I become inverted and entirely unsure of everything. What is my place? Where once I felt like (in the words of Bilbo Baggins) butter spread over too much bread I now feel like those burnt corners of the toast that the butter never reaches and will either be torn asunder from the rest and given to the dog or left on the plate to become stale, worthless and wasted.


I do have confidence in somethings, however. American justice is not dead nor entirely ineffective. My terrific friend was granted the payoff of determined justice seeking. In the name of self preservation and love of the ideal of a safe, peaceful city she has proved hope and diligent resistance can combat any evil. Dragging into the light secretive injustices can embarrass and make impotent those who think they can get away with treating another human as anything less than an incredible creature worthy of respect and compassion.