i'll do my best to refrain, on the sidewalk, in the park, in the dog yard, but if you say anything about genocide, you will attract the goons of genocide, and you don't have to speak to them, because they are not human, but because of their evil emanations, they must be banished from our site. 

 the little swamp isn't the same as when me and mister attended, before they tried to make it disappear, but it's still here, and still full of life. i got some swamp honey at the farmers market today. keep looking at nature to see what survives.

 i read a loooong post from kait justice about the epsteins and i could not process it. the abstruse complexity is defeating for a mind like mine, and surely i'm not alone, and that, and cruelty, is the precisely abstruse point. 

 

he represents something to people some people some kind, his tower, his elaborated landscape shaped and contoured to his design, that is not him. hope, say. he's a representative man. they enter his tower and pay and leave feeling good about what might be, what might have been. he's a representative man.

 the urgency of recording, as if from a dream, but waking, i thought of someone who but i don't know who, she combs her hair on a patio, a porch, a deck, a balcony, and the birds watch from the trees surrounding, and they come and pick up the strands and weave them into their nests, with twine, and tatters of plastic, and deflated balloons and little graveyard memorial flags, and that's all. i think i shall go on dreaming.

 They come from everywhere, as if on a pilgrimage, to line up to have their picture taken, as if he's a deity, the one who ruled the world for a little while, who said, Yeah, we tortured some folks. Who said We is the most important word in the world. Who said, It turns out i'm pretty good at killing people. Who knew?

missing two pigs.