now that i look back on everything i probably wouldn't be the person i am today if i decided to give up.
 

oh, well, the presidential lieberry, let's not talk about that. oh, NATO, hell no. we were walking on the island each shushing the other about what was happening, what was going to happen, what might happen, and the sad arc of yoko ono's carreer, beginning with john seeing her tiny YES on a ceiling in soho and a lot of years and killing, to this, no more pictures, the dread death lotus. we wonder what john might have said. would he have found it ironic? subversive? well now, we have had enough subversions of nature miss ono.
sorry, ghost of lennon, this is i know a small microcosm of our worried world. but it happens to be where we, and the live lotuses, live.

i saw the fellow writing this. i want to say yes, thank you, yes.

 honey bear by the sea. my ideal reader may not even read.

oh my honey bears, keep me present in your heart.

i have known addiction and isolation. i still know those two. yes, the dogs keep me present. and with this one dog specially, with my mister i can also dream. i can dream in the present. everything, even those hungry ghosts, can be present in the dream.

we've met many good people, and spiders, and dogs, on this bridge. i was talking with r. about my ideal reader, how it was her, then s. then mom. and so on. but, it would be a composite, i suppose, i'm supposing one. maybe there is no ideal reader, that would be too much to ask anyone who was their own person, and wanted to be their own ideal reader, and that is just yourself. and i thought i am the one i want, i want to read this thing like a reader would. i want to discover me. now i think, a reader is like a bridge. you never know who will come along. who might be smiling when you pass.