2016 is FUCKING FIRED, I am telling you truly. But this week? Is pretty fucking close, too. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.
This week has been sucktacular. Really. Seriously. I mean, you KNOW how bad this week has been.
I’ve been struggling with holding it together through this week’s events. Have you?
I will admit, it’s not been my finest hour.
First, we had a meeting with That Girl’s teacher and the resource head at her school. Which, as you know, is always an exercise in completely discouraging and disheartening me.
And then afterwards, I cried a lot of tears. Most of the evening, until I fell asleep. And not a few more of which were shed while talking to my friend, who is also a teacher at That Girl’s school, in a school hallway after drop off the next morning.
So that was fun.
Then there was that thing where our geographical neighbours chose a hatemongering, bigoted pack of misogynist morons to run their show for awhile. And that was suitably horrifying. On so, SO many levels.
It goes far, far beyond what is acceptable for us to bear when Leonard Cohen, Canada’s poetic genius, a man whose words have inspired generations of artists the world over, dies.
Granted, the man’s music was not everyone’s cup of tea, and not all the time.
But the words. OH MY GOD THE WORDS.
Crafted, painstakingly, slowly, sometimes in great volumes, the man’s lyrics were painful, beautiful, dark, glorious. Poetry.
We will, as a country, as a people who appreciate art and music and poetry, feel his loss.
But, in these tumultuous times, if he had to pass on, at least Leonard Cohen left us with those words and that music to cling to, like a life raft.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Thank you, our “bard of the bedsit”, our bird on a wire. We will look to that light coming in through the cracks when things are most dark.