"how did you do it?"

"i put one foot in front of the other."

sadness wants to know the past.
fear wants to know the future.
peace wants to type this sentence.

HERE.  NOW.  HERE.  NOW.  HERE.  NOW.  HERE.  NOW.  HERE.  NOW.

you are like a big fat bruise on my calf that i don't remember where i picked up and can't stop poking.

fade, goddamn you.

i envy the cultures with rituals.  mine has few. and i am not religious or particularly spiritual.  so i've none there to employ. 

but i delight in the concept of engaging in a series of designed, specific behaviors that represent or signify a corresponding change.  that is what ritual does---ushers in or otherwise announces change.

somehow, getting drunk out of my mind doesn't feel especially ritualistic.  and i don't feel especially changed.  except that my digestion is still off.

when i cross the state line out of california, the place of my birth and my life thus far, i want to be able to, ritualistically, acknowledge change.  i want there to be something organized and apocalyptic (!)  to do that will make it feel meaningful as it is. 

in other words, i just want to leave All This Shit behind.  but in a way that is less like ignoring and more like moving on.

moving.

a bitch, an asshole and a fool walk into a bar...

let go me
let me go let
go let me
let go.

let go
me let me
go let go let
me let go.

let go
me let me
go let go
let me let go.

let go me let me go let go let me let go.

get out of my head.  please.  please.

my father's right foot--
five toes packed into church
shoe shined with mink
oil and sunrise

tapped briskly down
on a wayward snail
with a crisp more
than a crunch.

if it had been
a tuesday or a wednesday
rather than a sunday
i could have forgiven him.

"I will deal with them according to their conduct, and by their own standards I will judge them”  Ezekiel 7:27

people will find a way to justify any action, no matter how horrific or cruel.