Whatever...

Life is difficult. The Indians call it dukhi, pervasive unhappiness. On a personal level, my hemmorhoids bother me all the time, my phone's battery can't hold a charge, I can't see anything without my reading glasses... I'm sure you can make your own list.

Everyone I know has stuff they are dealing with. I know because they all have their own craziness. One waitress sings too loud, off key, for the entire time we are setting up the restuarant. Another comes to work hungover and talks nonstop about sex and g-spots, and whether she is lesbian or not. The manager is addicted to Italian soccer. The bartender is anal. If you have ever worked in a restuarant, you know what I mean...

We all have our own shit to live through. Actually, we all create our own shit. You choose your problems. It is true.

And there is also a pervasive goodness. I don't know the Indian word for it... surely there must be one. Each of these crazy people has a spirit... an inate goodness that is clear and easy to see. That is the person I look for. Some people won't talk to you from their good spot. Some will. As a rule, pretty much, I only talk to people's good spot. If you come to me as a crazy person, I will agree with you. That's the best way I have found to deflect craziness. But then I will avoid you until you find your good spot.

And there is so much Good. Life is full of dukhi, and full of Good. Which would you rather attend to? It is a choice.

I am basically homeless. I have a friend who let's me stay in her parking spot, make coffee in her apartment in the morning, and shower pretty frequently. I consider myself blessed. I don't want anything I don't have. Desire is the root of unhappiness. I could focus on what I don't have, but what you feed will grow, so I focus on the fact that I really have everything I need.

In about a week I am going to spend five days with people who have a home. These people love me, but they don't understand what I am doing. They don't understand my choices, or my lifestyle. I am going so I can see my grandmother. Grandma Ginnie. She is a witch and a saint. She makes the wives of all Kilburn men cry, and she keeps the family together. I really hope it is not true, but this may be the last time I see her.

I love my family, and they don't understand me. I should say that I love my paternal family, and they don't understand me. My maternal family definitely gets it. Go figure. Did you ever notice that the people who have the least money are the best tippers?

My battery needs to be replaced, that's the primary reason I haven't posted lately. I'm also pissed off at my father still, and really don't want him to know how I'm doing. So if you read this, I still cast shame on you. I will get a new battery in a couple days.

I don't think I have anything else to say. I just wanted to communicate that I am still grateful. God is taking care of me, and my life is still hard, just like yours. Be well, be happy, listen to reggae when you can, and make love be in the space you occupy. What else are you here for?

Clear skies, cool salty breezes, and a very nice splif for you and me. What else do you need?