moon over porta-potty

As the political and social climate in this country grows increasingly volatile, I find myself frequently brooding over what, as an artist, I can and should be doing.  I lay awake at night scheming elaborate, frightening art installations involving icebergs, skeletons, semi-automatic weapons, and live rabbits.  (Those ideas never pass muster in the light of day.)  I write songs about thoughtlessness and rivers on fire.  (You can listen to those songs on  I take odd photos like this one of a porta-potty in the moonlight, that somehow seem to me like messages or metaphors.  Is the porta-potty our humanity?  Is it a different, rarely documented angle of the white house?  Is the moon representing hope? Does it symbolize ambivalence?  I really can’t say.  I only know that my typical urge to build lush bright images of thriving root formations and curious creatures has been replaced by something morbid and unsettling.