TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile
I woke up early this morning, thinking of Marcos, a housemate from my days in Berkeley. Marcos passed away on the 1st of November, drawing his last breath in his sleep. He left behind a wife and two young daughters. The girls were named January and December, so typical of Marcos. Eccentric, funny and witty, a good friend to many. May he rest in peace.
U.S. Election Day is one of those rare days when I feel very American. Although my 15 years in Ireland have acclimatised me to seeing the world through experiences attained in Ireland and Europe, I am reminded of where I came from, growing up in the conservative suburbs of San Diego before moving to a more progressive Bay Area for university. I was always ambivalent about Election Day. I was never a Republican, although the older generation of my family were staunchly so until 2016. Nor was I a Democrat, because the Democratic Party never aligned with my socialist ideals. Still, Election Day is here, and here I am, feeling two American futures—one sliding toward fascism, and the other a de-escalation, albeit slow and contested, of US terror and white supremacy. For me, to feel American is to always feel disappointed, but to feel, also, hope in seeing how many Americans also want to change the tide, which, in times of despair, can sometimes feel inexorable.