because i'm dying i really want to live, if i weren't dying it wouldn't be so important. that's a change i think from when i was younger and didn't know i was dying and had a kind of crypto-romantic notion of poetical death.

i always want him to live and i know the time is precious and hope i am equal to it. he'd already be old in the wolf world.

i've always been lucky for a miserable wretch but unlucky by other yardsticks and i still remember being obscurely poor but that may be a borrowed memory.

i wanted to make a film of walking walks with dog but i only have stills and fragments and little thoughts that float up like human clouds and are gone leaving me fragile and scattered.

there will always be a no mans land but it may be small and hidden and it may be in forced migration like us mental wayfarers. meanwhile we'll keep looking and keep dreaming of real things.

they talk about animals, they always talk about tools and death, everybody alive uses tools and knows about death, duh.

at lunch we talked about rd laing knots gorgon and strange fruit i always go macabre my sister talked about wonderful knots and what enhancement they offer.