fairy house mandala falulu. i lifted a shell from last year's village and i feel the karmic load. i'll return it to the center of the mandala tamala.
 

 i was gonna try to stop myself but i can't stop my project any more than i can stop the sick project the obamachron. mine might get boring but it does no harm. i'll curb the verbiage perhaps, but i can't curb my indignation, and this dog will inevitably bark. no justice no peace if you know what i mean.

 not ready to go yet. not ready to go. 

 not ready to go.

 may day, juju's here. everyone everywhere looking at juju is still here.

updat juju. it's windy cold and monday and i have to ride my bike to drop the rent on my empty-full abandoned apartment that holds my stuff, the cherished detritus of my life. also to get a lease to sign to use to prove i'm me to get a real i.d. 

juju heard me going to the bathroom at 2am and he ate with gusto. he may seem woozy at times but he's still here, and aware. he came in the bedroom just now and climbed into his green rocking chair. curled up in quietude he knew i was there making pictures. as soon as i was done he turned. 

endings are mysterious. some seem so final, some never end.

 i read about how susan longed for refuge in this crazy world and i felt the words, the same longing too, i've always longed for refuge, and the longing grows as the world grows crazier and more precarious, and makes more towers and megadevelopments while destroying places of refuge. but susan refers to interior refuge, in buddhanature. is what we long for within? but what about the world—the air, the water, the land. the world has soul and buddhanature too. maybe parts of the world can't be preserved, but buddhanature is indestructible.