Tuesday, April 28, 2020


I do not feel well.  That is my problem.  I am old and do not feel well and I think constantly of death. I think of life, but only as something I've done.  The only thing that keeps me from stopping this tonight is my mother.  I am an only child and I am why she keeps on going.  She feels the need to take care of me.  Funny, that.  So she keeps going and I keep going, but I have less desire than she to continue on.  What am I to do?

I sit outside tonight having eaten dinner after going to have a cocktail with my mother in her driveway at a safe social distance.  I cooked as I played the Trump Show, then ate my half-assed leftover dinner while the media parsed it.  They don't deserve an A.

Then I poured a drink and came outside to sit in the last light of the most beautiful day of the year with the cat that I had already fed watching her jump and dance like a nymph showing off for her daddy.  And I drank my first. . . no, second. . . whiskey and looked at the trees filled with golden light and wished for the same renewal I see in their fresh branches and new yellow green leaves.  I looked at the cat and told her we were both screwed, and then gazing up into the fading light (to fuck up the words of Joyce), my eyes filled with anguish and with anger.

There is so much here that will be lost when I am gone.

But I call upon all my old gone heroes for strength and guidance, those who have gone before.  As Hemingway has said, we were glorious In Our Time.  I watch a young girl roll by on her skateboard in the road and laugh.  She is beautiful but you can see in her face that something is wrong.

The sun shines.  The trees blossom.  The air is clear and clean and beautiful.  I never want to leave this.  Never.


In this life, in this life, in this life
We leave a trail that's far and wide
Good or bad, bad or good
Our memories decide
There are some places where I've been
Where you can still see the wounds
Think to myself as I look at the scars
Just who do you think you are
Innocent, innocent no more
I saw what I saw and I shut the door
Innocent, innocent no more
I knew it was wrong but I did it some more
In '78 I went through a rude spell
I knew it was fate, but I couldn't really tell
I thought that this was the way it was always gonna be
I hated everyone and everyone hated me
In '88 I went through a great spell
I knew it was fate, but I couldn't really tell
I knew that this was the way I wanted it to be
I loved everyone and everyone loved me
Every action has a reaction
Every life has a life to lead
Every human needs a fancy reason
Why they should live or breathe
I sit here feeling sorry for myself
For one thing or another
I'm trying hard to blame somebody else
For the miseries that I've discovered
I make a wish over a boiling cauldron
That I pass only strengths onto the children
And may the spirit move me to laugh and to sing
And I won't be drowned by the little things
Until the day when there are no more desires
And I put out all my little fires
There's nothing left but a wishful song
And there will be no right or wrong
Until that day, until that day, until that day
Sights and sounds they'll get to me

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