“I’ve got nothing this morning” he thought as he scanned global morning news sources, probably good for the world, not so good for his column.

He brushed his teeth, showered and dressed, he had to tape a short safety video for a gaming business, a favor for a friend, but then, nothing. Hopefully there’d be softball practice but no one was answering his inquiries about where and when, everyone still celebrating Sunday’s tournament championship. He’d hoped for something to distract him from unpalatable personal issues. Current and old flames both burning him a bit, no right decision possible. Tennis tomorrow, hopefully they’d finally have his racket strung.

He had a book he was struggling to finish by an author to whom his sons had introduced him. He’d very much enjoyed several of his books so he’d gone out and bought all he could find but this one was really mediocre, the kind published to sell based on reputation rather than merit; rehashed old rejections perhaps. It was something to do though.

Baseball season was over and his team had fallen a victory short and then, of course, there were his Jets. Perpetual penance; a price for past glories, for praying and promising never to ask again. He remembered January of 1969 and Broadway Joe in pantyhose. He was with Susan back then.

A morning message from Artemis, his very own “Agrotera, Potnia Theron” no matter what Homer had thought; the high-low of his day, guilt and a bit of despair to follow. Not a personal message, just a forwarded self-improvement or motivational tract, a lazy effort to maintain the “growing-again link”. If he talked to her he’d find himself lost again but it was hard to resist. Then guilt, and guilt and some more guilt. Personal relationships sucked.

The day was pretty though. Sunny on one side of his apartment but clouds slowly blanketing the mountains on the other, as though the city wanted to get back into bed. He never did that, once up he was up for good. He ought to get out and walk a bit, that would probably help clear his head. Unless, of course, he met an attractive woman who’d sow even more confusion into a confused albeit tepid love live. Always a risk in Manizales, a city full of beautiful women. That’s why so many Americans were moving in, American men that is. American women, … not so much.

So, … the Colombian peace process finally attained. A bright future purportedly just ahead. You’d think so, but, led by opposition politicians, the public was trending toward reneging on the signed accords. People really seemed stupid, easily manipulated; quick to forget. Perhaps they deserved what they’d get; but then, he’d get it too; … not so great. Of course, polls had not proven that accurate of late, perhaps ever. Like weather forecasts.

He wondered whether, like push-polls designed to manufacture rather than measure existing opinion, one could have push-weather-forecasts: “rain starting at two this morning but over by five, then a beautiful sunny day with some fleecy clouds playing tag in the blue”. That’d be something.

Back to reality though, depressing quotidian reality. US politics was even worse than Colombia’s. Media driven nightmares. Mirrors shrouded and televisions on at full blast. Wonder what Paris was like right about now? It would be early afternoon already.

Elections in New Jersey, Virginia and Alabama today, two governorships and a senate seat, that might prove interesting, perhaps more for the loser’s spin than the actual results. Regardless of who won things were unlikely to improve; the only sure thing likely being that the polls would be wrong.

Armageddon. Wonder what it’s like today. According to Wikipedia, “Megiddo is a town approximately 25 miles (40 km) west-southwest of the southern tip of the Sea of Galilee in the Kishon River area in Israel.” Megiddo is the Hebrew root for the Greek variant, “Armageddon”. So this morning Jewish kids are playing in Megiddo.

I wonder if there isn’t a bit of allegory there.
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© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2017; all rights reserved. Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia although he has primarily lived in the United States of America (of which he is a citizen). Until recently he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. He has academic degrees in political science (the Citadel), law (St. John’s University), international legal studies (New York University) and translation studies (the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). He can be contacted at wacalvo3@autonoma.edu.co or guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at http://www.guillermocalvo.com.