My attention span seems to be lessening. Maybe I’m synchronizing with the rest of the world and their lizard like rapid eyes watching/turning for what moves within their technological grasp.

I am only reading Bukowski 1 chapter at a time now.

Savor.

Laugh

Learn

The breeze is light and warm here in the shady side of life.

Her voice is bright and happy. She’s my alarm and I’m off to work for the first time in over 5 months.

She said, “It’s cool and breezy for this the last day of August. “

Then she tallied last nights body count across the city and land.

Hard to believe that this is peace time.

They who have escaped the daily grind of work and living to lounge in the boardwalk cafe’s, working on their tans in strangely comfortable clothing…

After a time they they all look so silly to me, not unlike ‘the boys of summer.’

I of course am invisible to them, reading Bukowski again…

I’m close.

The radio is bringing it.

Well rested, good sleep, kittens await at the top of the stairs, quiet behind a barrier that keeps them at bay with the rest of the world 🌎

Here we go!

Social media has become similar to a Mega A.A. meeting without the anonymity.

There is no wise calm elder chairing this meeting and Sponsorship is not available.

And people are using their real names!

My name is Bob Smith and I’m going to tell you just how much of a batshit crazy bigot I am, and here’s my address and phone number… and my FACE!!

See folks… The success of the A.A. program is rooted in the ANONYMITY!! And being somewhat humble enough to realize that YOU might not have all the answers, and LISTENING.

An old woman gets on the streetcar dressed in a hospital style hair net, a mask and wrap around sun glasses, waving her arms and yelling judgment about social distancing and those not wearing masks which sets off an older woman screaming and cursing at the first woman and this goes on for 2 stops before I get off… and so it goes.

I think I’ll just go home to my daughter and her kittens.

I have walked this strange path not knowing about uniqueness or rarefied experience; I did however know that it was mine.

The rules of the walk were given sometimes under harsh strict forces masquerading as love and generosity… I didn’t seem to care at the time for I was young and because of them, not totally abandoned.

There was a period of great confusion followed by silence and then clarity. Lately however none of the old harsh rules seem to apply to the new world of change and I am confused and far from alone on this strange path.

I read a letter from a black woman recently who stated and asked:

“Dear White People. We’ve cooked your food to feed you, raised your children, and toiled in your fields… Why are you so angry with us that you want to kill us?

Why indeed??

I had zero idea that my poverty ridden humble start in life could someday somehow be viewed as white privilege.

My single mother making $10/week plus room and board working 7 days a week would have little knowledge of her esteemed advantages.

Who knew?

I don’t require a great reason…

Not being heard is a less than good one.

I like being mad. It feels so real. The voice raises with some special brew of ancient brain chemicals!

This is getting as old as I am.

Maybe time to smile and wave 👋

Learning to’ just don’t care ‘ is a worthwhile cause I feel.