RECALIBRATE

They are calling for a general strike. 

I'm going on strike. I'm leaving. 

"Dropping out" was how the Sixties put it. 

I'm still in Mexico now, returning to the States on Thursday. I don't like the country I'm coming back to. I'll be leaving again two weeks later, after my taxes are filed and various legal technicalities taken care of. 

I'm leaving the country. I'm doing the thing many said they would do if DT were elected. I'm doing it, but to an imperfect extent.  

I'll still be sneaking back across the wall on a regular basis, if they let me in.

I met and stayed with two different people in two different places here in Mexico -- in Merida and in Cholula -- who expatriated from the United States to Mexico many years ago. 

They have good lives here. I felt at home with them. They didn't want me to leave. I didn't want to leave.

Here is where I am staying in Mexico City.

This will be the way I live now. 

Temporary housing and recharging my laptop in airports. 

Privileged refugee status. 

Perpetual motion. 

My wife died less than a year ago. This trauma has been amplified exponentially with the political turn of events. 

My life is trying to recalibrate in the midst of the national trauma. I have no answers.

I walk down the street and wallow in the faces of humanity, the 22 million people of Mexico City.

Children laugh and play. Some are barefoot.

I give beggars money. I don't care.