Ashes in the Shape of a Flag

I used to really look forward to posting on social media for Independence Day. I had this whole collection of humorous and over-the-top graphics I liked to share as a way of reminding people to make room for fun at some point in their day. But this year? All I had was a Midjourney render I churned out last night, and:

"Can you still hear me?"

"Yes. Now rise."

As you can see by the date stamp on this post, it's July 4th, 2025. Trump's Big Pile of Fascist Bullshit Big Beautiful Bill passed yesterday, and (like a lot of people), I'm more than a little numb about it, so there's not much to celebrate today. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. 

I'm not proud of my country anymore. In fact, I'm genuinely embarrassed by what it's become over the years.

But we're going to take a half-day from work today, order some pizzas, and light the fire pit as planned tonight, regardless. Not because I believe in the flag or feel like celebrating America today. Certainly not because I feel safe or because I think this country is what it says it is. 

But because I need to remember I’m still here. Still me. Still watching. Still speaking. And maybe someone somewhere is still listening.

As my render for today very deliberately suggests, America, for a lot of us, feels hollow now and has for quite some time. What's left is the husk of something powerful, something once full of promise. But inside? Just wind and ghosts. 

I hope better days are coming eventually, but truth be told, I expect things to get a lot worse before they start getting better. In the meantime, all I can do is whatever I can to protect myself, protect the people I love, and be one of the ones who helps however I can.

Bowie and Zombie Walk into a Fire Pit

My July 4th playlist this morning was accidental but strangely perfect. First came David Bowie’s “Everyone Says Hi," one of my all-time favorite songs by my all-time favorite artist. I’ve always seen it as a letter sent from another world, especially since Bowie himself passed. A letter to someone who disappeared. Or maybe a whisper from the other side.

“Said you sailed a big ship. Said you sailed away…”

It made me aware of everything I'm feeling right now –– grief, nostalgia, disconnection, hope. I felt like I could be the one writing the message, but maybe also the one it was meant for.

Then came White Zombie’s “Feed the Gods.” Another favorite, although quite different in tone. Loud. Fierce. Primal. And just like that, my morning train of thought wasn't about loss anymore. It was about power instead. Fire, just like the kind we'll be lighting in the fire pit later. 

That's the part of me that isn’t just mourning the collapse, but lighting a match because something new needs to be born. Two songs, back to back. One asked, “Can you still hear me?” The other answered, “Yes. Now rise.”

What Freedom Looks Like in 2025

I can’t (and won't) try to speak for anyone else, but I’m a million percent not in the mood to wave a flag this year. Not with everything going on and all sorts of unspeakable things happening to people. Not with people being deported and tortured. Not with legislation passing that puts so many of us — me, Seth, people we love — at risk.

I feel the ache of everything this country pretended to be and the fear of what it’s becoming instead.

But I also feel a strange kind of clarity. Because when the noise gets this loud, when the mask slips this badly to the wrong side, it becomes easier to see what’s truly worth holding onto and what isn’t.

For me, the things that make the list are connection and intuition. The little rituals that remind me I still have agency. A fire in my garden. A song that hits just right. A couple of sentences and some imagery that feel like they cover what I really want to say, without me having to struggle to find the right words.

To Anyone Else Who Feels This Way

If you're like me, sitting with complicated feelings about the world right now, I just want to say you're not alone. 

You're not crazy. Your grief and fear are extremely valid. You don’t have to celebrate anything you don’t believe in today, and you sure as shit don't have to try to find comfort in a system that’s failing you. But know that you can mourn the collapse and still choose to rise.

“Can you still hear me?” 

“Yes. Now rise.”

If you’re still listening, still thinking, and still feeling, you’re doing better than most. (And hell, better than me lately. Some days, anyway.) So light your fire. Say the thing. Feed the gods.