Just what it is

Urban Funk

Today is Juneteenth and I do not care. Narrowly considered we are in 1776 land awaiting free people. Citizens dwelling in the several states we have many. I am as free as a broke dude can be. Not boasting only observing I have toiled many a year over age 50 in indignity and for a minimum wage and never did I consider myself free of pecuniary slavery. I always considered myself Metaphysically free. In the sense I know I do not know but I have no reason to disagree that the best thought comes closest to truth. And as the child of my 40 year generation of 80 years-40 years prior and forty after birth in 1957-I am this sentient bubble of quantum froth and so forth SUBDUCTED by the 20th century fault line.

Free from other more servile slavery since Meals on Wheels exists to eat I remain a slave of my mood and my hour in life sulking at my wife’s death and being accused of murder and dissolution and depravity by her only child, a daughter of 58 years, “everybody knows” you killed her and I want an autopsy

This specific allegation arises over a Coach purse I believed I disposed of. For some reason this purse well used has talismanic value. I was mistaken. The purse was the one used every day and not the Kate Spade purse bought for my wife in Carmel 2 years ago unused. The purses disposed of were not of value.

The funeral is still on.

Tonight my oldest SF friend and old roomate takes me out to a Chinese movie on the Ukraine.

Only two weeks ago impossible.

I can go on.

My heroic imagination - more on this from 19th century Nietzsche’s view to come. And to some extent from mine as well. Century 21 has been “berry berry good,..to me”.

Beaten down, looking up, considering situational options and my broken soda bottle in a neck just to see the blood spurt as I laugh