I feel like I’m writing a hostage note to be smuggled out from a secure undisclosed location deep in Facebookistan. Whisper as you read.

I’m fine. Which is a total lie but lies are all the rage. The day after the coup was my birthday, as you know, because I kept endlessly yapping about it. I didn’t get what I wanted. C’est la guerre.

The next few days were a blur. I had to rewrite my “It’s So Great to Have a Woman President!” show. My new show is called, “Let’s Get Together and Break Things”.

Then I emceed a two-day conference on democracy. We hid the sharp knives at mealtimes. After the two day Shiva, I went with my dear partner to visit her family in Texas, an open carry state.

We are back in New York City. I am by turns calm, wild, determined and rageful. It comes out in odd ways. I just put a pan away in an unnecessarily violent way.

The coup has been very clarifying. In the days to come our path of resistance will become clear. This old white lesbian is in no mood for appeasement with white supremacists.

Have a lovely Thanksgiving. I am thankful for all my family and friends. Bless all your sweetness. I thank you all for fighting the good fight. I especially thank Hillary Clinton. When I can’t sleep at 3am, I think of her. Maybe she’s up padding around her house, waiting for the first light. Battling the coulda shouldas. I hope she’s sleeping. Rest, my sister. We’re awake. We got this.