I’m not going to say that’s the only thing on my mind but it’s right up there.
I feel guilty if Debby acts even a little sheepish while I’m cleaning it up.
And why is it always on the rug?
Now to the business at hand.
I watched all of John Lewis’ funeral yesterday.
His life and death has overwhelmed me.
I don’t have to go into how brave and kind he was, and at such a young age.
In his memory I intend to wear my Black Lives Matter shirts (I have many attractive colors) every day until I die (I’m 76 so that could be any day) or I don’t need to any more.
Of course that excludes weddings and bar mitzvahs unless they come out in sequins.
We all do what we can.
Luckily I have this Zen…
So here’s the story.
When I admitted that I lied in my last post I found it amazingly freeing.
After careful thought I’ve decided to incorporate lying into my everyday life.
I’m sure many of you have noticed that doing the same thing every day, mostly alone, has made for really boring phone calls to your friends and loved ones.
Anyone with half a brain has stopped starting a call with “What’s new?”
Well with a bit of imagination your friends and relatives can introduce that question back into their convos.
I’ve already started.
Last week Julie baked me a pumpkin bread.
I’ve been eating a slice a day with my morning coffee.
Usually I keep the mother loaf in the kitchen but yesterday I decided to only eat 1/2 my piece so I would have the other half this morning.
I wrapped it in tin foil (a grandma word) and left it on my desk.
I came in this morning all happy only to be greeted by this.
Now we all know who ate it.
- she’s been eying it all week and
- I got her from the pound so who knows what kind of record she has. For all I know she was in a gang.
But will I say that?
No, mainly because when I spoke to my sister this morning and barely got the sentence out ” I left my cake on my desk last night” when she countered with “You’re an idiot”.
So here’s what I’ve decided to do.
I’m gonna call the cops and say I had a break in.
Then if you call me tomorrow I’ll have something interesting to say.
I guess I’ll have to call you. I assume I’ll get my one phone call.
Now a real Zen
Remember in my last post I talked about that African American guy who took my picture and said that the whole Black Lives Matter thing was bullshit and that he preferred trump to Biden?
Remember when I said we hugged and I walked away?
Number one I don’t hug anyone any more.
And number two if I was going to hug someone it wouldn’t be a cocksucker like that.
And number three when he took my picture he didn’t tell me that one side of my hair was all flat.
In actuality I just drifted away with my head down while he was talking.
Phew that feels better.
By the way, my niece Stephanie didn’t buy that hug for a minute.
And now,,, wait for it… ZEN
Nor an impending really bad storm could keep me from viewing the completed project on Fifth Avenue.
You people know I’m not one to complain, heaven knows, but don’t ask about my knees.
And this fuckin’ dog doesn’t know the meaning of saunter. Pull pull pull that’s the only language she understands.
I mistakenly thought painting Black Lives Matter would take days to complete and because the weatherman said that by 12 noon it would be 55 knot winds I decided to interrupt Debby’s beauty sleep, she’s a late riser, and go look at the finished product.
It was beautiful.
I was standing in the glow of loving my City and just witnessing what I thought was history when I asked an African American man on a bike to take a picture of me ( see below).
He took a great deal of care in taking the picture. And as I was thanking him he said “You know this Black Lives Matter thing is bullshit, don’t you?”
I can’t remember exactly what he said but the gist of it is that it’s the rich people that are promoting this and that all this marching won’t do anything, We have to change the Constitution. He also said that he’d vote for trump over Biden any day and thank goodness Hillary didn’t get in. If she had Jeffry Epstein wouldn’t have gone to prison.
I countered with the first people that marched in the sixties didn’t stop the war or get the civil rights laws changed it was the continued marching that made change,
But that went down like a turd in a punchbowl.
Remember that glow I had a few minutes ago…gone.
He and I hugged each other and wishing that I never met him I slowly limped or tried to limp slowly (remember that fuckin’ dog) home.
Here’s a picture of me before I lost all hope.
And some Zen of that fuckin’ dog and my Super.