Today I tried not to think about the undersea oil geyser but was unsuccessful. I've been spending much energy on this futile mind trick lately. It doesn't work. The vision of this thing so far out of reach, rapidly spewing oil into the water does not recede. The grey-blue petroleum or the white methane billows just pumping, pumping madly out into the water through the grainy disaster-cam.
While I sleep, while I shower, while I think about what I want to eat for dinner, while I tap tap tap on my computer, there it is. Spewing. I feel some kind of pressure. I want it to stop spewing. I just want it to be fixed.
When it is finally stopped, I’ll breathe a sigh of relief. I imagine a party, it's the party to celebrate the end of the flow. I’ll raise a glass and toast the stoppage of the flow, when it happens, hopefully soon. It has to happen. Right? Nevermind that this is only the beginning. Nevermind the fat, giant plumes of oil lurking below the surface and drifting toward the loop current. A new and real monster of the deep.