Just to confirm the present state: off-the-charts bad. Travelling southern Europe, possibly finding an academic or artistic berth there, seems to be the only possible way to accomplish the work, given the adversity from the corrupt folks stateside. Dozens of times every day, I remember a specific place from my most recent travels, and those times are the hope and happiness of the present.
It's a peculiar country, sometimes, and also dangerous. You wouldn't be able to understand my situation from the general notion of life in these United States, but the folks actually involved with the culture here would certainly recognize the fact of de facto internal exile in a market economy.
I survive, I keep an attitude of dispassion, and I do as much work as I can. Tomorrow comes.