I realized, after about 4 days in a row of working more hours than I actually slept, that things simply aren't going to get any better soon. There is no cavalry coming, no dawn, only an extended dark night. This is how the homeless feel as winter comes and daylight dwindles to a few precious hours. Only for them, there will be no going home for the holidays, no turkey dinner on Thanksgiving, no family to be with, just the sounds of life going on around you and the deafening sound of silence and the horrible realization that nobody cares if you live or die.
America is homeless, ousted onto the streets by our scolding parents who insist we 'do something with our lives or else.'
And like the parents that are capable of doing that to their children, so is Bush pushing us out the door. If we can't, every one of us, be like him and be a billionaire, well, then, we can just go live on the streets like a bunch of bums! We're cut off; no allowance, no help from anyone, and dad has talked to his friends in the corporate world to make sure they won't hire us at a a decent wage, to make sure we learn our lesson about earning our living as billionaires.
Our dad is a dry drunk, and a mean one at that. He's the kind of wife abuser that smiles pretty when the cops are around, and then beats the hell out of you when they leave, stonewalling the authorities that might catch him in the act. And mom isn't much better; she's busy keeping up with the Joneses, spending money like crazy on huge, lavish dinner parties for daddy and his rich friends. Meanwhile, the front steps are beginning to rot on the servant's quarters, and the next time the maid goes up them to have her meager little meal she just might fall through them, cut herself on a rusty nail, get an infection, and die while waiting for treatment at the free clinic. She has no insurance, after all, and why should she? There are plenty of potential maids to hire.
Meanwhile, things go on much as they always have for mom and dad; lavish parties, good times, their money and position assuring their popularity. We're sleeping on the couch at a friends house, but his wife is complaining and won't put up with it for much longer; she wants her couch back so she can watch her afternoon soaps.
The people of New Orleans are suffering through this nightmare right now. Bush isn't going to provide a happy ending. All the homeless get is a long winter night of watching the distance as gas station attendants fall asleep behind bulletproof glass and truckers truck down the road, and shivering against the cold wall that you're trying, desperately, to fall asleep against, to get even a half-hour's reprieve from reality.
I feel so helpless.