I go to sleep last night after yesterday's horror & wake up to find there'd been another shooting, this time in Dayton, OH. Nine people murdered & another 16 injured, bringing the total up to 29 dead & 42 hurt & god knows how many irrevocably terrified for life. It was another white kid in his early twenties with a .223-caliber rifle, except this one had on body armor & carried additional high-capacity magazines.
So far, we don't know a motive. Unlike the Trump-supporting white supremacist in El Paso, the Ohio shooter didn't post a manifesto on 8chan that we know of. Nor do we know his political affiliation, if indeed he has one. Dan Patrick, the waterheaded lieutenant governor of Texas, has already blamed video games, lack of prayer in school & a host of other cultural sore points.
We blame everything, of course, apart from easy access to unnecessarily high-powered killing machines, toxic masculinity & white resentment encouraged by conservative politicians. We suck it up, bury the dead, morn our lost innocence, & decide that running the risk of being riddled with armor-piercing bullets is worth it just so tedious bed-wetters in the suburbs can pretend to hold on to their fragile masculinity with a high-powered rifle.
I dreamt last night of physically fighting with my brother while being abandoned by my parents. I don't know what that means or in what context I should put it. My brother & I would never throw down anyway, even if we hadn't settled all our youngsters' quarrels, & my parents have never been anything but supportive, if ham-handed in that support. I see no beauty in the world today nor is there joy in my heart. I did not go out to commune with the front yard. I'd just go back to sleep & ignore it all but the dreams won't let me be.