Then you love a little wild one, and she brings you
only sorrow …

What else were you expecting, dear belletrist fool?

Peace and healing? An end to political violence? Forgiveness of your student loans? An end to possessions and property?

Did you come to the conclusion that it was your birthright to feel loved?

Did you swear and kick and beg us for these lovely things?

How quaint.

How very nearly
amüsant

Twelve years on from hearing Albert King I was sleeping on a couch in the Middletowns of Ohio.

The Senator named Vance was there too. He was a six year old victim of that other kind of violence they call domestic.

Maybe you don’t like it, but I guess I’m learning.

These fragments are my trying
to write another essay about the learning
if only to give life in the pouring sky some opaque purpose here at the end.

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe.

All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.

躺平