Angry.
Angry at Oil.
Angry at Oil.
Angry at James Cameron for being a different kind of moron than the guys running the diamond saw.
Yes, the same ones doing the top kill with GOLF BALLS
What.
The.
FUCK?!
You know, the guys failing to stop the earth from bleeding out?
You know, the guys failing to stop the earth from bleeding out?
Somebody page Dr. Ellis Grey.
STAT.
Daggers from my eyes for them. Daggers!
Angry at BP for making me dream of Kevin Costner’s impending sequel to Water World: Oiled Earth.
In my dream it looks like Mad Max meets The Road.
It’s all grey and gloomy and the entire Earth is covered in black tar.
It’s very depressing.
It’s very film noir meets cinéma vérité.
Especially the part where Al Gore is a swinging newly minted bachelor sitting high atop his Beach Cliff side mega-estate in Montecito sipping champagne and waiting for the green flash as the burned-out sun boils backwards
and downwards into an
infinite ocean of magma-like tar.
I have vivid dreams.
They look like this:
(AP Photo/Eric Gay)
Angry for imagining that Iron Man could save the day if only he weren’t a FICTITIOUS SUPER HERO.
Dang it.
Also feel a little stupid about that particular nowhere sense of hope re: Iron Man.
But simultaneously the thought of Robert Downey Jr. makes the greyness feel a little lighter.
He is delicious, after all.
BP is all tied up in retirement funds for old English mums and chaps across the pond and their stock is plummeting.
Fast.
The shock waves of this spill are endless. I can’t start to think about them; when I do, I can’t stop.
Angry at myself for inability to take action. Not sure what kind of action to take.
I guess I could clean some birds?
Mostly Angry for general bitterness about the entire catastrophic mess.
So.
Who wants to hang out with ME?
So.
Who wants to hang out with ME?
© 2010 – 2011, Laura Lee. All rights reserved.
I do! I want to hang out with you! xo