My mother loved him to death. She died and he said he was relieved. I heard him say it, I think he said it a couple of times, and I expected he would offer an explanation, later on, after the funeral, after the reality of her death sunk in; add that he was out of his mind with grief, or simply stunned, that relief was not the right word, that he meant something else. Continue reading
“Do you ever feel like you’re going nuts? And then you tell yourself, well, everybody is nuts, and you mention your fear to anybody and they’ll force a laugh and say, well, every body is crazy, ha ha ha. You make comparisons and you come out ahead. You aren’t in jail, or in a mental hospital. Two pluses right there. But still.
I’ve felt slightly crazy, if slightly is a possibility with crazy, since I was a kid, wetting the bed in Vermont, running away so often that my parents had to tie me to a tree. Even then, I’d thought about killing somebody, some asshole, but never came close. The gap between thinking something and doing it is wide, a long swim, fraught with what if’s, and those what if’s are internal cops. We don’t want to get a ticket.
So I was a young man and didn’t conform and turned into an older man who still doesn’t conform but goes to work everyday, although I cheat the IRS and I hope to fuck they don’t catch me. If they do, I am going to plead insanity. I was a member of the Students for a Democratic Society in 1974 at the University of Vermont, so I know I am on a list, and that list consists of other subversives such as crazy people who cannot be controlled. We’re all being watched, but there is one loophole: being looped. The mentally ill in our country have more freedom than the rest of us. They can murder and eat children and if they can prove that they’re nuts, they get life imprisonment and three meals a day, maybe a couple of butt fucks, but hey, better than no fucks, right? Continue reading
Above our heads always. Duck into an alleyway, crawl into a bunker, it is there. Pervasive, A curvature, The illogical umbrella, Top Sheet. Neighborhood of stars. Our projection screen, warped canvas. We insist on credibility. What the hell is it doing there, overtaking all else, ignoring our demands and prayers, God’s voice visual and mute? Heavy above us, a reminder of our date with dust, we as dust, despite the rain.
here is a video from the Humane Society about a class action lawsuit filed against Petland
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Howard came from Petland
The cop looked in the dumpster and noticed a picture of his wife. He had just received a complaint from the Olympic Sports store that someone had dumped bags of garbage in their dumpster. That someone was me. I’d cleaned out a few drawers of hometown memories that morning, – high school notebooks, graduation pictures, diplomas, clippings and headed into what I thought was a free-for-all dumpster tucked behind a strip mall. After I threw the bags into the dumpster I took a walk with the dog and when I returned to my car I was met by the policeman and the assistant manager of the Olympic Sports store. Continue reading