as it is nearly done, you see, the stress of things has been too much lately; what is going on; what I won’t bother to say; fear is not great for focus —on this— it has made me feel like a lunatic as one presses fingers into ears to ignore atom bombs dropping —to finish her opus; and yet this is the only thing there is to grasp in the mudslide.

I spend the day with UN Jackson (yes, that’s code) as he has a way of putting calamity into perspective —well, it is his job after all, flying around the world …. how calmly he can tell me the terrifying things he’s seen —and yet always with heart

we spend Black Friday at an arboretum and we are the same suddenly as we were at 14 weeping on each other’s shoulders about things; like we did in the school hallways. He was the last person I ever expected to be there all through the years, listening to the disasters of my life; we were not exactly the two most likely to be friends —as he ran with the wild crowd

how weird it all is to me; this world; life; pandemic world and the stupid decisions you make because of the pandemic; it is the isolation and the horror over what dark dinosaur next emerges from within the human being ….I don’t think I learned the technique of desensitization ….except self-inflicted; the exception that makes the rule.

It seems necessary to at least go out in flames for me, so why not put everything into this madness that I have created/creating/amcreating— and be as bold as Jackson Pollock tossing paint at canvas from across the room. I suppose when you live on the edge it forces you to stop looking down ….electra, at the center of why it is because ‘it must be’—like some program in the mind, set off by some Beethoven chord long, long ago

It must be