My Cardboard Balcony

Writing Under The Regime by Belinda Roddie If I scribble controversial stances in the shadows, where no one can see me, and no one can censor me - if I whisper in your ear the monologues that can no longer be enunciated on a stage - if I offered you a crudely made home video of a romance, or adventure, or political scheme that would be deemed too offensive for the powers that be to air to the mad masses - would you watch it? Would you hear it? Would you take the time to read my scratchings on the bedroom walls and letters left in abandoned performance halls? Would you spray paint my message on bathroom stalls and take photos for posterity? If I can't have an audience under this new regime, with their hounds of Hell nipping at the ankles of the artists who remember the days when we were free, then will you at least be there, with me, and listen to my story?

I am perplexed by it all, my man. The anger and confusion regarding the freedoms we've held dear for over two hundred and forty years. I see them raise their arms in a salute that should have been banned almost a century ago. The roars swallow up the stories of good men. The tales of brave women are drowned out by hatred and frustration. The echo chambers are bigger than ever. I am perplexed by it all.

As the three men in disheveled jeans and white bandanas were loading the last few boxes into the moving truck, I heard a shuffling of shoes from behind me and was startled to see Vanessa approach me. She was shivering in a thin, frayed hoodie, her eyes averted to the pavement as she stepped onto the driveway by my side.

Hey, everyone. This is the second update I have for my so far abysmal attempt to do NaNoWriMo this year. As of the evening of November 19th, I have written...once again...zero words. There are a lot of reasons behind my failure to write. Half-baked story ideas, focus on my job, complete and utter anxiety and emotional exhaustion due to the political climate in my country. Things have not been good mentally for me, so I've spent a lot more time socializing with friends, family, and loved ones. Self care is the top priority for me right now, so that comes first. Obviously, I have still been updating this blog, and I also have been working on slam poetry, while a good buddy and former bandmate of mine is coming up with beats to go along with my recitations. So far, I've written three slam poems, and I'm proud of two of them. One of course may or may not rip into the president-elect of my country. May or may not. Pay attention to that ambiguous statement, litigators. Real...

They dug a hole in the ground, looking for oil, but all they found was dirt. Perhaps the dirt had value, they thought, but nope - not a fleck of gold, not a speck of silver, not the tiniest glint of something precious. No gems, no jewels, no stones, no nothing. Just dirt. But they collected it, anyway - they filled up jars and buckets and bottles with the stuff, and they carted all these dry clumps of soil back to town, with the citizenry staring at the display in bewilderment.

Well, everyone, I'm going to level with ya: It's been a really tough week. It seems like every morning when I wake up, something horrible and scary is happening in my country. I'm just going to try to enjoy these last two months before the unholy new regime starts. So, yeah, no real introspection tonight. If you're interested in seeing my thoughts on what's been happening in this country since the 8th, feel free to click  right here   for my thoughts and perspective. Barring anything unexpected happening, we're in for a rough and treacherous four years. Have a good night and a good weekend, everyone.

The Revolution Will Be Livestreamed by Belinda Roddie Give every damn dissenter, protester, and reactionary an Internet connection.