i think about him trying to keep up and i get so sad feeling his eyes on me. i think about looking back and him not being there.

i think how i'll miss his dawdling. how i'll miss his easy relating to people. is it bad to miss a person who is still here? i fear i won't be able to contain all my missing when he's gone. i'll never be able to miss him enough. so i have to start now missing him when he slows down, long before he goes.

that was when we first started. it almost hurts to think about. i didn't know much and he had much to teach me. but we both had some personal problems to work out. i always wish i had been smarter. it took so long and life is so brief. but i'm lucky even for the hard times we had. there isn't much we can change i guess, we mostly endure change made by stronger forces that surround us. me and mister did change though. we changed each other and we changed ourselves. we were together and we are and i can't imagine being apart.

we were walking down south hyde park boulevard and heard a tall girl with a hickey say i told him, don't get me wrong, you're just not my type, with a rueful smile. for some reason i thought of myself being that guy and overhearing her, and feeling stupid because she was too tall for me. but actually i thought about when i met mister and i thought golden retrievers were not my type. i never really knew one before mister. maybe it was some dumb prejudice i picked up from dumb humans. maybe they were too pretty. i'd never known one and i didn't know mister. now i know my life was poor before i knew him, and i can't imagine life now otherwise. he's the dog that resembles in every possible way the dog that was waiting inside.

r. got the domain name save the midway and is building the site. though public land is being stolen from the people by the rich and powerful we can still make it heard loud and clear that we are not giving it away. now obomba's millennial monument to himself has risen to 180 feet and 25 acres that was a place where wildlife nested and human nature rested. it is the same old story, we live in the remains of nature in the wake of progress and power.

ok mister, get going. he's made friends of all the bridge painters and he's likely to be wearing black stripes or handprints by the time it's done. so far he's only got a couple dots on the head. one dog got a juicy enamel mohawk.

no voices now speak to man 
from stones,
plants, and animals, 
nor does he speak to them
believing they can hear. 
his contact with nature 
has gone,
and with it has gone the profound
emotional energy that this 
connection supplied.

c.g.jung

    scary wave.

jasper in the bag. i was playing snake with penny and the sunset cast the shadow of cat and string on the the wall mirror and while penny played with the string jasper played with the string shadow.

caught in a single spider thread.

i wrote that post about everything you share with a dog still being there knowing how it feels to be inconsolable with small consolations even if a small consolation gets in and generates some more. and the more history you have with a dog the deeper the loss feels. and you might not be able or want to be consoled. you might want to just feel the pain. i know how you can get stuck in grief too, and how you can think you'd be curtailing it or not honoring the loss by finding a new love, and it's true there is no love quite like the one that's lost, but i think a new love allows you to grieve, and new and old are one.

we saw kelly parked on her green john deere. being outside all the time we come to know the park tenders personally, and feel a park bond. i asked how she was and she looks like she's been through a medicine hell, but i'm hangin' in there, she said, one day at a time. and i said me too, and i know what you mean, but i think we're all in that same place. none know what is coming. it may have always been this way, but we know now it's no disposable cliche. this is it. this is what we have. so thanks kelly, for keeping the park so nice, and for talking to me and having mister up on your chariot john deere.

when we're walking by the running biking hiway to get to the beach i see his shadow coming up behind and right of me and i direct his shadow with my shadow finger to keep to the verge and he comes up and noses my pointer finger. you can tell even by our shadows we both are smiling.

you got some awthritus but you got some love in those joints too right mister.

i was hugging mister through the spider bridge rails and a skinny grey hairy back sweating dude jogs by and says thank-you! 


(earnest recreationally suffering weird skinny grey hairy back running dude thought i was restraining mister ha ha).

half of belief is lie. 
don't see connections, don't make connections. 
personal devices and social media avatars 
don't see, don't make.

it doesnt hafta be what you thought it was what you think you want you dont always think you want you cant say you say a lot of things you don't know what you want you dont hafta have but you think what you think. 
its all speculation true but you know what you cant think what cant be thought who can think extinct.

i am sensible of a certain doubleness by which i can stand as remote from myself as from another.... when the play- it may be the tragedy of life- is over, the spectator goes his way. it was a kind of fiction.


thoreau,
journals.

i thought about how after all this time i still wonder what he's thinking all the time and times are when we look at each other both wondering what the other is thinking and at the same time thinking ah that is reassuring we are thinking the same thing and then i think of augustine, and behold, thou wert within me, and i out of myself, when i made search for thee!

i read in becoming good ancestors that wildlife has moved into human environments not due to reduction of habitat but because we stay in the house and abandon the environment. there's a fox den hard by mcdonald's and so on. we go from point a to point b and animals dream in our no-man's lands.
this morning i read that forests globally are so degraded that instead of absorbing emissions they now release them. the amazon basin releases more carbon than all the traffic in the u.s.
then i read on climate changers that carbon emissions have leveled off and we may have reached a peak, and that all our little acts of conservation have really added up. 
it seems there is no truth, only alternative truths, effectively cancelling each other out and letting us get back to sleep in the punctuated silence of the sixth extinction.  
 

 hilde was eating charcoal briquettes

while comet chased a rabbit.

everything you share
with a dog 
is still there.

i said mister i'm just gonna go in here a minute and you can stay there and he followed me and went ahead and walked between the waves and i followed him in and we were immediately excited by the waves lifting and sending little waves through us.
 

yesterday he was so tired from hydrotherapy we couldn't swim ,which is funny, and we shied from the waves, but the water treadmill just tires, and the inland see it spiritualizes.

dreams are life,
you lose things,
like keys,
and you have to wake up
to find them,
and to save yourself
from some catastrophe
that was just a dream.

you keep
 

i got drunk with bobby coscarelli in a dream last night and i felt so guilty and so relieved to wake up sober and far in years from bobby coscarelli and those drunken dreams past. 
i thought how like life dreams are though, we keep trying to wake up, or put ourselves to bed and dreamless sleep, but we keep have these bad dreams, for no reason, or for everything at once, the cos keeps ghosting my dreams. all the stuff i cannot change. 

there is no misanthrope like a boy disappointed, and such was i, with the warm soul of me flogged out by adversity. 

herman melville

my brother he doesn't want to think about the whole thing.

 he turns it off. he gets mad at me. 

he can't think of the big story, he can only think of family, his old doctor said he would die by 63.

i don't say it but it wants to say itself, why don't you put the smoking money in the jar for little james and stay alive and watch him spend it in the coming hard times. but i offer the money i surrendered of my dad's, and watch and see. 

i'm sorry i'm cynical brother, but i want to live, i'm glad to say, and be free of the real cynics, who destroy life in the home and planet.

i was watching a ben rivers film about characters on the edge of the human. one of them talked about when humans vanish from the earth. when humans are gone he said there would be fossilized cities, and vines and lichen will cover the tall buildings and birds will nest in apartments, and reef cities will fluoresce underwater and all the lost life of the bleached reefs will come again.
but there is something both nostalgiac and sad about this now.

a guy we've seen before in the park, shuffling with a stiff leg and drip on his nose, carrying his things, who i was a little wary of either for his sake or ours. mister thought he should greet him this time. 
i watched them with a smile that grew when i saw his green eyes moisten and he spoke real softly, saying one like this one saved me from drowning almost in a whisper.
often i'm grateful and glad when mister takes the chance.

mister was on the water treadmill for 14 minutes yesterday and boy is tired. mister went the opposite way round the pond and i didn't know til i reached spider bridge. when i ran back around i found him with some boys smoking weed. i guess he was following his higher sense, his nose. the painter of spider bridge said his mother smoked the good weed for her arthritus and it really worked. ah, it would be cool to get stoned with mister and swim.

for paul, and for max (2004-2017)

we don't know you but we feel your loss, and by your loss we know you. i hope you will keep the golden connection with others of the golden tribe, and look in here for reminder. connection is the thing, and loss connects. 

"he was 14 months old and abused for some strange reason. he was always so sweet and empathetic, he was a person and a beautiful soul. i'm so sad i have no words to describe it. i miss him so much it hurts."

you have described it, and i know you will continue to describe it. you can always come here.

mister and me bid you peace and love.

we all fall with grace.

dang, the north wind came and we could not be there so i have to return to yesterday today. i met jean and mentioned greenwald and she was mute and blank and i do not really know her mind so i said you know snowden and she got the squinty look i don't go that way though she seems to be about civil justice for poor black youth it appears she must have the parameters of the system she acknowledges is sick and corrupt but like the democrats say it's all we've got. i say those guys are are the heros of the era and it's sad that snowden has been buried in the invisible detritus of the american consciousness. i have to remember what greenwald said about connections and interactions, the daily sharing of stories and feelings and yearning for freedom being potent and spreading. 
a watched society watches, a repressive society represses, it changes behavior, it makes people fear dogs and will attack them for being friendly, and they will attack mothers of babies going naked. yet something else, freedom i guess, is always growing underground, underfoot, you feel it in your soles, drink it from the earth with your feet, freedom is rhizomatic, freedom is irrepressible, a watched society is conformist, obedient, subdued, controlled. but something in us will always be feral, anarchistic, creative and free.

see jacs swim. i asked his mom, he's a good swimmer, how long has he been a swimmer?, and she said 5 and 1/2 months, then she clarified, since he was 5 and 1/2 months, he's 5 and 1/2 years. and i thought he was afraid of water, like fen, i only saw him barking at the waves, but i guess he was barking to get in.

what? oh, same old same old, getting it while i can, knowm saying, getting late, this heat, it's a gift, gone tomorrow, oh, i know, i don't take nothing for granted, i'm just getting it while i can, when it ends i won't be unhappy, i know now, i won't be.

i don't always know what i'm doing, or what i should do,
but i feel you, mister, i feel you.

she looks at the fountain and takes off her dress. i'm going in, she says. 
you're going in?  
i'm going in, and
she does.

 

to see things in terms of something else without losing sight of the thing itself. to seek the core of sameness, the shared identity. a world in which all is relatedness. not order, which is limited to rationality, but relatedness. a world of relativity, with the metaphorical imperative at the active center, relating the parts and their movements.

edward lueders,
the clam lake papers 

what do you think about glenn greenwald, mister? 
i think it's a very nice name, it's all about green and trees and a place of green trees, a name that gives the feeling of peace and sanctuary.
thank you very much, i like him a lot too, and he's funny. he said last time he spoke at rockefeller chapel he started feeling pious and getting more grand as he spoke. 
he said it's difficult to talk about donnie john trump because he's so inconsistent, scrambled, incoherent, and as soon as you exhaust yourself on one insane twit or heinous act, he's already done another and another, and you end up incoherent yourself, your brain scrambles to make sense of senselessness, ends up scrambled. the trouble with talking about trump is you have to think about trump. that was funny and true. 
and all this surveillance and lies and hate and murder was going on before we got the d.t. and will go on when the thug fades into plastic dust.

the good thing about trump is he's not the unnerving faux sincere earnest compassionate mask of obomba who was so slick nobody could respond to his evil. donnie john's the pure unmasked money monster. he feeds on the profits of death, no apologies. now we have our monster.  
now we can wake up and fight. 

 comet brings the ball and places it between zora's feet.

my ass hurts.