oh my dog! there are so many machines! the air is filled with machines! it never stops, it makes my head ache, my heart wither, and my eyes dry up, i know it could be worse, i can breathe, but my breath is filled with exhaust. i can't breathe right, gnome sane. damn the machines. 

 mou is shy and then sophie esther got shy too, but both were sweet and gentle. shyness is a good thing i think when you can work with it outside with other shy kind ones. some bullies i know are shy and they're the worst. 

 

mouna helped. she's so timid and anxious i have to find my calm place to help her out there. then she helps me. then we help each other. 

yea, i say to mou (though more to myself), there are some bad people out here, mean and ignorant people in truth, and it's hard not to react, in anger, in fear, both together. stupidity is so vexing and provoking! that's the reason for being  for stupids. stupid is as stupid does. and it's hard work not to react stupidly to stupid, mou. frankly, mou, i feel stupid too.

 i woke up not feeling good, feeling beleaguered, some dark residue in my brain. so when that a-ho said i was real bright i flushed, and it bums me reminding me of times when it happened almost daily. righteous indignation won't give you any peace in a ruthless civilization. anyway i'm presently still trying to flush the cortisol several hours on. walk on, just smile, shake my head, softly now, the world needs gentling, walk on.

 bear was wild today and i think, why is she so wild when she runs by the bike 5 miles in the morning, and i think it's because of the prong collar, and i tried before on her behalf and mine to get that thing put away but when i saw it hanging on the door my heart sank and i knew it was always there, and what i was feeling already, that we have radically different views on how to treat a dog, and he's adamant, that's what he wants to do. it's painfully clear it doesn't work, and makes her both afraid and wild. and he says he likes her wild. how does the prong collar work with the wildness. it punishes. and then with me without the prong collar she feels free and then she gets wild in a manic way and i just realize we have different ways, and now i'm counting down the walks in anticipation as well as sorrow. i just pray it doesn't end in tragedy, yet it already feels tragic to me. i'm just going to take her through the graffiti erasing tunnel and round the graffiti recurring point thirteen more times. and then, and then, i don't know what.

 we were walking to the point and two people were standing blocking the sidewalk with two dogs and i thought maybe they would notice us and let us pass but they didn't and we started around them and bear went up to greet them and then one and the other started snarling and the man said real bright — still no eye contact, just tossing a little hate bomb my way, and i said pardon me? and he said you should go around and i said if you have an anti-social dog you should step out of the way, you're oblivious, and he said do something about it and i flipped him off and he said do something about it and i flipped him off again and said this is what i'm doing about it, stupid. i know i should just bow my head and shake it slowly and walk on. you can't fight stupid. 

tuesday's a blank page in the pandemic diary 

crack on the horizon last night

blankety blank mind

building spikes line the edge

if you look softly sometimes you can see through the scrim

eye lashes water drops 

innerness seeping

not the trauma something other than 

several times spread vaguely through this vague hurting body 

like roots

year of attenuation 

luck is living in this extermi

nation