SURFING ON WARM, RISING OCEAN WAVES WITH THE UNITED NATIONS CLIMATE CHANGE REPORT. This morning I'm up at 3:30, listening to the BBC talk about the Australian fires, then turn that off. Prefer this silence. The loudest thing is the ringing in my ears, from my day in the city. After the climate report's release two weeks ago, overwhelmed by the twerking of John Boehner, there is an ominous silence settling over things. Sometimes the lack of leadership in the world - ABOUT the world - makes me do a slow double take. Really? Are we really set adrift? Are you politicians really in the pay of the fossil cartel and the banks? Is it really that simple? And all the thousands of earth scientists saying how bad things are in unison, like a big international choir with towering harmonies - that unprecedented message and years of taking the Earth's pulse - is it lost in the din of discussion about Miley Cyrus' ass? The report could have been drowned out by any kind of white noise. We won't let the Earth speak to us unless we are terrified by fire bursting from the sky or from the ground beneath us. And though that happens more and more, somehow we capture these disasters, as the BBC did just now in my kitchen, in sentimental tones of a farce. The news reduces extreme weather events to a kind of twerking, just as the politicians reduce it all to wonkish policy. Then we end up sitting in the pre-dawn silence. How can we possibly re-up this report to families, to communities, to culture-makers? Our little group - we will go back into a New York bank on Thursday, probably Chase, with our Golden Toad masks, worn like strange big hats by our singing activists. Hand out the information about the banks investments in coal, gas and oil. Engage the bank workers personally if we can. It is this kind of micro-gesture that we have to believe in now, this hand to hand cultural combat. Earthalujah!