Sunday, May 30/10 7:30 a.m.
There are two tear drops on the table just below my key board. They're not dried up yet and they dropped there shortly after 7:00 a.m. when I listened to the news for the first time since yesterday morning.
I've been trying to avoid hearing anything or reading anything about that oil leak off the coast of Florida ... because I've known in my heart how awful it is and that it is going to do nothing other than kill things, kill everything in its winding paths.
I really wanted the cement injection thing to work and stop that leak. And it hasn't worked. And all the images of ruin that I read again and again when I went through my teenage phase of reading science fiction short stories flood into my mind.
And now, there's some talk about putting a cement dome over the thing to siphon off the oil. Well, that's the first thing I thought of weeks ago ... based on a bit of logic and the same lot of science fiction. I recall from first aid that if someone has a cut aorta the first responder can only put on a thick cloth and press down. Surely there's some physics-y/engineery equivalent that should be on a ship stationed right beside any oil rig.
And I keep asking what the people who want to drill oil under an ocean are thinking? ($$$$) And how can they not have had in place at least ten crisis domes and hoses and pumps and back-up holes and really thick cloths that actually work? ($$$$) What are they thinking? ($$$$)
And even though I am not an adherent of any of the formal religions ... right now I want them all to be damned. And for those who have any conscience and have seen what they've done, perhaps they know they are.
Ten minutes to write this. The tear drops have dried but they've left a mark on the table. What are the marks on our hearts?
With love to any readers,