It Ain’t Easy Being Indian – June 2020

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photo of ricey wild

By Ricey Wild

So, I’ve had a lot of time to think. I tried to stop myself but could not. I have a personal library of books I can read right now but I don’t. I’m always scrolling and building up my anxiety level so much so I don’t remember what it’s like to be chill. For myself it’s been one devastating blow after another this past year, so there’s that, too. Thus far I’m doing okay except for the time I was buzzed and contacted a former lover. IKR? Being lonely is a thing for me now.

It’s human contact I need most. Hugs, smiles and laughter, and tears, too. A state of being that has no monetary value. There are no more “Free Hugs” signs any longer. Space between us is now an issue. See…I love you and you love me and others, too. Sad that it took a deadly pandemic to make a point of this. And then there are the 45 KKKultists that will…oh well. They can’t say they weren’t warned.

Now that the snow has finally melted I have another thing to watch. My youngest, Tom Petty (He’s all white with a nubby tail huge and could be taken for an albino Bobcat) has taken up a new hobby. One morning I went to let the Malti-Mutz outside and saw a stuffed cat inside the door in his purrsonal lair. It was a toy, jeez! I was all like, “It’s paranormal!” Since then many interesting socks, baby clothes, more stuffed animals and other sundry items have accumulated. Turns out Tom-Tom is the only one tidying up around here. I finally caught him in the act; he was pulling up tights from the basement and here I was just looking for them.

I just now rediscovered that I can make my upper lip touch my nose. #ForgottenSkills #Lookslikeafish LOL! So, get back to me with your own skills while in captivity. I’M JUST KIDDING!!! Personally, Ima make my own Playdough since I can’t be bothered to bake bread. Frozen dough is pretend bread. I’m okay with that but I don’t buy any can of bread that explodes. Issues? I have a few. Don’t get me started on my squirrel trauma!

I can feel grief and anxiety in the air. It saddens me but there is also a loving connection, that we all need each other now more than ever. This Matrix is now a different way of being and I know I’m confused too. I also feel this current virus has a spirit. I don’t know what it is but most disasters do. That’s why they name them. I think we are in the Big Pox stage at this time rather than the Smallpox. What is making me grind my teeth right now is when MSM parrots, “This virus does not know political parties etc…”, blah blah blagh!!!

Okey Dokey den! Umm…let’s check current COVID-19 deaths and who died by now? Oh hay-ay! I’m not in the obits today, I’m fine. It is only ‘others’, not us (the 2% darling snicker snort chuckle). All I have for them is you can’t eat money or drink oil for life. Their collective greed and selfishness still has the power to astound me. I don’t think I’m naïve, but OMG! The demeaning, genocidal and evil of the western so-called civilization is in extra bold print now. Wake up. It is you and I, and those like us, who have been chosen to die for the sake of the God Almighty economy.

Republicons have already been brainwashed. Let them gather and ridicule those of us who wear face covering. To them I say, I’m grateful for social distancing. I’m still waiting on my Prince masks in the immortal lyrics of George Clinton, “So you can look coo”. Yah George wrote sunglasses, you get it. Respecting others is the new I LOVE YOU. I admit I have been without a mask in public. It was an extenuating circumstance so don’t judge. I almost passed out and I brush my teeth daily. Ima have to publish a new headshot.

The above words have come out of my ‘thoughts of isolation’ flow. I’ll be okay, I just had to share and go bare, so to speak. Over many Moons (ay!) I have shared experiences no Indigenous person I know of has ever had, a special holiday when we had a break from holding up our shared universe. I pray daily for our families who are on the short list for complete annihilation.

This is where I am right now. The survivors get to write the new rules. Now is our time while the 1% is underground, killing each over the last can of Spam.

I am self-contemplating my wicked ways on this day, my birthday. I will share another time the story of my Immaculate Conception.