ST137 ... i passed away quietly in my sleep last night.

I never told anyone.

I passed away quietly in my sleep last night. I never told anyone. I didn't want to hear the response, the hidden-frightened gestures, the so sorry's, all my condolences, and i'm there for you and all the rest. Oh i know they mean well, doing what they believe in, care as best they can. I just don't feel the same anymore. Maybe too many deaths in my life, took it too serious and found out about my covered up fears, whatever, i just have a different relationship to it all now. At my age it is no surprise, we all gonna go. Maybe I've cried enough for missing people, alive and dead, missing me, my heart moments so dear too deep to experience again, i dont know but i just dont feel the same anymore and i can see that many still do, great, sorry, but i just don't. That's why i kept it quiet, at least for a few more days, maybe weeks, shit maybe years, who really gives a damn anyways. If people really cared they'd comment in the numerous writings about every thing that came to mind in my life time, nite-time, buy me a coffee once in awhile… give a shit, really, when i was all fucked up with stuff… break ups, loss of my sanity for a few days, here and there…. yea, well, you're saying, 'well, did you care about me'. well, yea, i did, you know i did, i was there for you, ok, ok, ok maybe not as needed…. well it doesn't matter now, i'm gone, which means all of you are gone, all of you, memories tripping over themselves to say goodbye, one last smell of you, a dream hidden crippled compared dead, or dying. Life was something eh, all those moments crammed in like a box of letters.

another page, another time

I'm awake now because of a ton of explosions in the streets, because of some weird celebrations for St Patricks Fiesta Fiasco here in San Patricio. I'm here alone….no not alone, i have Kachi, she's hiding under the bed, she won't come out, maybe in the morning, but i'm dead, right, then what…. memories could fuck her up for the rest of her life, how would she get on with out me. I treat her better than any woman i've ever been with. She eats better than most humans, gets to go everywhere i go, hardly ever on a leach other then when she has to act like a service dog. Yes we have real papers and she knows the rules, in the big box stores she plays the game, all the other smaller stores and cafes and restaurants she walks free, wandering around tables, back rooms sometimes, many owners and workers know her, love her, treat her with respect. She is a spirit, an entity worth more than most. They can feel it, she demands respect, her nature is pure intention, attention, she is the queen of the neighborhood. Kachi, named after Sierra Kachina, my daughter born on the hundredth year and day and hour of the last major military attack on the native american indian at wounded knee. It is just a name but it carries weight, 'I pulled in to Nazareth'.
Was feeling 'bout half past dead
I just need someplace
Where I can lay my head
"Hey, mister, can you tell me
Where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand
"No" was all he said……. a band, dead now

So goodbye, everyone, everything, ultimately, nothing really matters and we are just not that important.

i’m on display down the hallway with a few close friends chattin quietly about visitors and other stuff… i took the picture too.

The mind is a memory processing machine. Memory exists in part in whole in fragments of molecules, electrons, photons, to name a few… nameless particles and non-particles of and in the soul and soup of water….. or something like that. This is a possibility and an explanation for all past life experiences, reincarnation, death, life, the ongoing turmoil and love of love and separation and middle of the night writing.

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