LONELY ON THE FOURTH OF JULY
Writing about America today is much like trying to message an ex-girlfriend. And if you haven’t written an ex-girlfriend in a state of desperation, perhaps on the eve of a meaningful anniversary that provokes feelings of only the good times (*cough* July Fourth *cough*)—congratulations, you’ve saved yourself the trouble doing something incredibly stupid.
But upon reflecting on this year’s Fourth of July and the ambivalence the country feels towards celebrating its day of Independence, it feels like a tale of broken love. So, if you’re struggling with how to feel this Fourth of July, might I invite you to indulge in an episode of writing your ex a message.
Please enjoy:
**
Yes, it’s tempting to send HER a message. You’ve spent draft after draft writing your heart into the text, explaining everything as you saw it. Now, all that’s left to do is send the message, digitally, in a world where there are no take backs (Ha ha!). After all, why shouldn’t you send it? You want to still like this person, even love them, but you also understand that with all your differences and the storied history of how it all went wrong between the two of you…there’s no healing those old wounds.
Some things should be left to scab up and become ugly scar tissue as a reminder of why things go so horribly wrong to begin with.
So, let’s take a moment and explore just why, on this Fourth of July, you are writing HER (America, if you haven’t caught on with the symbolism here yet).
Well, isn’t it obvious? SHE’s still pretty hot, even after all these years. Plus, SHE’s single and, well, you’re single…so why can’t you two just, you know, work it out and relive some of those great years the two of you had together?
Ok, not all the years were great. SHE did have a fling with that guy Terry when you thought SHE needed a break to sort herself out. Why did SHE ever go for a guy like Terry? Everyone knew he was loud and obnoxious. He told enormous lies about how great he was, lies about business ventures that were major successes (they were not), and how he was a savvy real-estate tycoon, which, sorry, has anyone ever bought a house from Terry? Would you buy a house from Terry? Because NO ONE buys a house from a guy like Terry.
Ugh.
But you’re understanding. You could still see the appeal of why SHE would go for a guy like that. He was the opposite of what you were: confident, brash, outspoken, and lots of people loved him…yes, so very annoyingly so. But eventually SHE saw Terry wasn’t the end-all-be-all. He was terrible boyfriend material and should have never been elected to boyfriend status. Four years later, SHE finally rounded the corner and dumped him. Thank God!
(Well, Terry claims he dumped HER, but EVERYONE knows it was really the other way around. Sorry Terry, you’re not fooling anyone.)
So here you are on the Fourth of July and things are better, right? SHE’s single, you’re new and improved, having grown so much since the old days. Just send HER the great message you wrote about how it can work out again. You just need HER to join you and work as a team. How could SHE say no to all of that?
Then you remember: it isn’t just HER any longer. There’s also Todd, HER 2-year-old son.
Yes, Terry’s son. Turns out, there were consequences with Terry being in the picture–you don’t just escape from Terrys of the world.
SHE had Todd with Terry just after SHE was done with you. And even though you washed your hands of HER, you heard through the grapevine that SHE was pregnant. The betrayal! SHE said SHE would only have a kid with someone SHE truly loved! And SHE had a child with Terry of all people?!
Terry???
You’re double the man Terry ever was. Just about any man is double the man that Terry is.
So, now you’re hesitating to send the heartfelt message that would win HER heart back. Maybe it isn’t worth reconciling with someone like that, the type of person to have a Todd with a Terry (the absolute worst).
Yeah, that’s right! You remember it all, now! You remember the last fight and all the terrible things SHE said about you before she left.
“I just feel like we’re going in different directions,” SHE had said that night. “I want to get things back on track, and the only way to do that is through my Supreme Court commandeering a constitutional agenda with zero oversight. It’s the only hope our relationship has, don’t you get it? We have to throw away our bipartisan objectivity and start ruling on legislative agendas that derail the entire democratic process if we’re ever going to get anywhere. We all want this.”
“Where is this coming from? I thought we were happy,” you tell HER, with scoff followed by confused, hopeless scoff.
SHE quickly dries a tear from HER eye, as though this speech is hurting HER more than it is hurting you. “I wish you would have just supported me when I needed it. If you had approved of the direction my court was taking us in supplanting its responsibilities and taking the reins of whatever jurisdiction is being awarded by a passive congress and picketing White House, we might had had a chance. But I have to do what’s right for me, and that’s supporting the RIGHT team so that they win. I’m sorry…if you’re not with me, you’re against me.”
“What is this, 9/11? Like I haven’t heard that before!” You tell HER. But SHE’s already gone to the bedroom to pack up a suitcase.
And you stood there. You stood there wondering how SHE could say such nonsense. Where did SHE learn any of this? From that one cable news network? Why is it shown in restaurants like that? Scaring kids and adults, and apparently ruining relationships!
SHE couldn’t have been serious. What did courts have to do with your love? You were both BIGGER than any court in the land, right? Did SHE mean something else instead? No, no, SHE really did change. This isn’t the same person you fell in love with. Something happened to HER. SHE wasn’t always this excluding and cruel, conforming to the “right” team winning (who was SHE even referring to? Tell me it wasn’t TERRY!!).
Now you’re riled up. You’re pacing the room. This is all HER fault!
It’s clear what you have to do: delete the message.
There’s no reconciliation. There’s no “friends with benefits” between the two of you. SHE has clearly gone crazy! It’s not like you said anything hurtful.
…well, that’s not entirely true.
You did get your say that night as you followed HER to the bedroom where SHE packed the suitcase. You stood in the doorway and said:
“What kind of backwards and dystopian world being gerrymandered by troll-looking white men with no other currency than fat bank accounts, hedge funds, and insider trading for investments given to them by their rich Troll fathers are you talking about?”
You might have shouted this, doesn’t matter. SHE deserved to finally hear what’s been on your mind.
“What? You want us to be like all the other white elitists parading intellectually empty minds around like its a badge of honor, who claim religious superiority and values as a skimpy disguise for textbook patriarchy and a Machiavellian pursuit to rule everyone else for no other reason than to hide a crippling and intense sense of insecurity? Am I getting this right? You want us to flaunt that change is BAD and we will all rue the day when new policy helps evolve and leave the world a different place, which will upend the inevitable power struggle of – and I’ll say it again – FAT, PASTY white men who look EXACTLY like storybook TROLLS?? Seriously, who would ever fuck these guys?”
SHE was oddly quiet when you said this. Little did you know that Terry was already back in the picture even before you two officially ended.
“Since when did you become a parasitic, weak woman subservient to the patriarchal hierarchy, painted red, white, and blue with the period blood of your canceled reproductive rights, along with a laundry list of other liberties they will invariably take from you next!”
“You just don’t get it,” SHE said. “You never have.”
That’s when SHE walked out. Without the suitcase.
SHE didn’t even have the decency to say it was over. And maybe that was a hip, Hollywood way of saying it was really over anyway, kind of like characters who don’t need to say obvious lines in a movie if there’s a better way of relaying the information through imagery or symbolism. But still! It was classless to just walk out.
…and back into Terry’s arms. Probably. You haven’t checked HER Facebook photos recently…
(You can’t state enough how much you hate Terry…)
And now there’s little Todd, who might as well be the next Terry.
You sit down, not knowing what to do.
Is it worth messaging HER? Was any of this worth fussing over? Things were great, once, but can it ever be again with HER?
That’s when it hits you:
Maybe not this year.
Save a draft of the message, stash it in a folder somewhere in the cloud, and reread it next year.
Maybe it will make more sense later on. Give it some more time.
Bang.
Boom.
Red, white, and blue in the windowpanes.
Fireworks light up the treetops of the neighbor’s property. They’ve bought the good stuff again this year. At least there’s that.
How pretty, you think.
Kind of like how SHE used to be…
***
SO, I CURRENTLY HAVE COVID…
As I write all this, I’m currently quarantined in a room recovering from Covid-19. It’s my first positive test, which is a strange feeling. To many of us, a Covid test is like a viral pregnancy test (which sounds like a pregnancy test that “everyone must see to believe!”, but that’s not what I mean—I mean “viral” as in “virus-based”. Duh). You swab your nose, put the swab in the tube, swish it around, put on the cap, pinch four drops onto the testing dial, and then wait twenty minutes for results.
If there’s one line, it means negative.
If two lines, IT MEANS YOU ARE GOING TO BE A NEW DAD!!
**Stadium cheers**
(I’m kidding. And the scope of that joke is even shallower than usual considering the abysmal decision of the Supreme Court’s re-ruling on Roe v. Wade—seriously, fuck that institution and it’s geriatric need to revert back to the “good ol’ days” of an imaginary “perfect” White, patriarchal America.)
But much like any positive testing, there is a moment when you realize that your life was one way, and, after the test, it is now another. There was a conscious understanding of, “Oh, now I can’t go out and see people if I want to,” and “Oh, now I have to stay in a room for a week and keep to myself”.
And if you’re a creative introvert (like me) who thrives with being alone and would have loved to take a week away from everyone and everything anyway…
I can happily report it was a much needed vacation!
As I’m coming to the tail-end of my quarantine, the biggest thing I’ve learned about myself is how much shaving I should start doing on a regular basis. Honestly, a shave every 3-4 days just isn’t enough.
And if this wasn’t the life lesson that a potentially debilitating virus was trying to teach me in my 33rd year of living, then I don’t know what is. Maybe I should have thought more about prioritizing my health and relationships, but that’s just not how it played out. I can’t help it, life isn’t pretty—and the lesson I gleaned from this time of solitude was PLEASE SHAVE MORE OFTEN.
Thank you, Covid, I will follow thy sage lesson and remind myself to shave more.
…and will totally forget to apply said lesson when life becomes busy again.
Maybe on the next mutation I catch I will finally apply it.
Speaking of, when’s that third booster coming out? Soonish?
***
OOO! THAT NEW BIOSHOCK INFINITE LOOK…
Hey, the answer was in the section title: I’ve redesigned my website in the style of Bioshock Infinite. You guessed it, another one of my favorite video games.
I’ll save on the spoilers in case you haven’t seen/played/heard of Bioshock Infinite, but it is a game that I feel strongly encompasses the current mood of this American cultural climate. As such, it felt like the perfect design to accompany this website through the summer months of 2022 as we try – VERY HARD – to not devolve into a dystopian state.
I’m mostly kidding. Dystopia is a strong word. But if I were currently playing America: The Game (set to release on PC in 2025), I’m not sure how I would avoid the word “Dystopia” in describing the game…see what I mean?
Hmm, maybe I’m looking for a different “Dys” word, just a step before a Dystopia.
Dysfunctional. Hey, that’s a better word!
We’ll go with Dysfunctional.
Anyway, attached below is the art I’ve made for the background and header. If you look closely behind the torn American flag of the background image, you might see the menacing copper eye of the Songbird.
**Shivers**
And serious question: is the Songbird a machine, a mutated man, or just a really big bird? There’s lore behind it, I’m sure, but I was always too terrified to check it out personally.
But now that I’m nearly recovered from Covid, maybe I am now brave enough to look up the answer myself?
Nah.
Best not tempt Covid to overhear and come back even stronger. Some things are best kept secret.
That’s right, easily-lookup-able-information, you win this round…
***
- “Meteorite” by Anna of the North & Gus Dapperton
- “Unconditional I (Lookout Kid)” by Arcade Fire
- “Break the Rules” by Charli XCX
***
Wishing everyone as well as they can be. You’re not alone out there,
