A week after the assassination attempt on Trump's life, Lilith and I ran into Uncle John in the cemetery. He asked how we were feeling. I reported that I felt sick to my stomach. Why? Because it looks like we're going to get Trump again.
He raised his hands up, gazed toward the sky, started to sing "God Bless America." As Lilith and I trudged home, I thought I can't do this project any more, can't keep my equanimity, can only write evasions of the central subject. I'd intended to write a second volume to Lilith Walks, one that ended with the coming election. But now I just couldn't do it any more.
We got home, dressed in our gloom, and I turned on my computer. "Biden steps down, endorses Harris," it told me.
Political joy, you've been a long time gone.
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