now you know just how i felt. sorey bout that.
i told margaret i was aghast at her last newsletter regarding the obomba fundation land grab. she said it's gross and wrinkled up her nose like the thought of it stinks. it's not over, she told me. it's gross and it's not over, i said. i always laugh with her usually. we're always making funny usually of grim things.
part 2. i saw lulu by that tree on top of the train embankment by the fence. no, lulu, no! i said. and she listened thank dog. i knew what lay at the trunk of that poor tree. it's a bag of human waste and a revolting pair of fruit of the loom underwear. why do we say pair for underwear or pants. it's only one thank dog, and no legs. oh but sick humans never mind
the nomenclature just please please pick up your shit. i don't care about any other animals, even if i hafta like nafta 2 point zero step in it. animals poop; humans shit, that's the difference as i see it i guess, in a single use fossil fuel bag. hey man long gone, you had the toilet paper, and a thank you have a nice day bag! why can'tcha throw the shit away! you have unmade my day, you and that arch stinker obomba.
we all have our used to be. it wasn't quite what we thought it was, but it's become part of our cellular memory. we thought it ought to belong to us, what was merely passing through. how it lingers. we feel it in the soft belly bottom, of quartz lightning our groin, a mystery making soft tissue stand up, alert, immediately all the desire of a lifetime come to this flash no one else sees. what is happening inside we can't quite say but we all know it is. someone present calls to us in the same old place that used to be.
trudy does the bone dance. a little bit is abundance.
you may feel insecure today. you may feel congested. the coffee may be too weak. you may revisit someplace you went yesterday. you may add something small to the environment that was thrown away. you may pick up something small as well and put it somewhere else and you may experience small insecure fears relieved by small secure joys.
dreamed i was in my old apartment. opened all the windows. it was stuffy. then outside with a dog that was stiff. the dog was both copp and r. i lit a joint and asked if s/he wanted a puff and s/he said nah, and i'm like, why not, it'll ease yer bones and then a bat comes and it hovers by our heads and the lands on my hand and starts to bite and suck and i shake he/r off.
post dat. they're saying the coronavirus is spread by bats. the virus may have come from a cave but it's comes from human activity.
