I keep thinking about something Margaret Atwood said when I interviewed her in 2017: Every dystopia is someone’s utopia. So whose utopia is this?Ann Friedman, Whose Utopia is This?
The congee I had for lunch today was served with sauteed cabbage and mushrooms and fresh ginger and a fried egg. It was delicious. Aside from the egg, it looked a lot like this one.
My friends on the far side of town who have not hosted a concert in their barn since the pandemic swept through 18 months ago have announced one for the end of this month, featuring these folks. Am I excited? Why yes, yes I am.
The nights have cooled off and the cicadas are still singing. My long weekend is blissfully unscheduled.
My new-ish practice: not wanting what I haven’t got.
This post is for all who are furious about the Texas abortion law and do not need another angry screed to tell them whose utopia this is.