From the Plums

I must be fucked up. 

I wake up in the middle of the night and I feel like working. How lonely must a person be to wish to fill their personal time with modest occupational accomplishment; passing through the belly of the LLC. 

I have been working for a few hours now. Years, actually. Seven of them. Most people whom I know have worked their whole lives. It embarrasses me to hear them discuss it as if it is a virtue, the way that I would if I kept waking up in the middle of the night and doing this.

I would describe to you what I have been doing but it would dull your senses. 

I had thought only to write a post here, a lovely poem for Saturday morning, but then I felt the weepiness creeping in.

Here, let's see if I can write a poem that is not weepy:

Nope, fuck that, nope.

I stared at the computer screen

wishing for pottery to appear

All that, and never knowing why.

That was beautiful.

That last sentence is not part of the poem, nor this one.

I have found a new place to live. A house. It will be more of a home for me, I can feel it. I have been living in rooms, mostly living-rooms, coincidentally. I have been too often sleeping on air mattresses when I'm not in my little private rented room.

If that sounds depressing, it is because it is depressing. 

There were times, too many of them, when I could have died from a drug overdose. So, all things considered, things could be much worse... I could be sleeping in Jesus.

Rachel must cringe when she reads this stuff (assuming she still does). Separation involves a certain level of denial; she and I have always had a somewhat different relationship with the truth; our version of it.

That is not a slight, though some might read it as such. I assure you, it is not. One day, perhaps, I will explain. It has to do with the faith required for "truth" to appear, to exist at all, and nothing to do with the facts. Facts are what get us to the near end of things, not always where we wish to be.

Truth, our version of it... it is among the many things you notice about a person when you are in love with them, qualities that linger, challenges even in defeat.

Personality seems so silly and inescapable once things fall apart. You realize that some of the things you laughed about... they were taking quite seriously.

The soft confusion of principle and personality.

That sparkle in the eye that might mean nothing, or worse.

Well, that and other stuff, etcetera.

So, my new place. You are all welcome to stop by, of course. Come, and sit, we'll chat. It is wine country, and many people love that about it. 

I will wow you with my erudition and charm. Most are surprised at my ability to continuously speak. 

Shocked, engaged, et al.

If you find yourself un-charmed then you can leave and walk down to the El Verano Inn. 

Admittedly, their site needs a little work. But, it is one of the local amenities there for your tourist pleasures. 

The Sheriff's office is also nearby, for convenience, because they are going "green" with incarcerations in the valley. It is their enforceful push. 

The latest Efficiency Reports state that bicycles and dogs are now used, and of course the inmates are always being recycled.

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