27 July 2008
the cure for a sobbing and puking rage over the police state
...turns out to be finding out that someone you love very much is on his death bed.
And, damn it, Norman, the cats are all hovering again now, trying to cheer me up. I'm just wrecked, here, because I know it has been the biggest kind of love driving you your whole life, even though it always took great insight to understand that behind your outrageousness. I remember it was your pets who gave you away, who first opened the curtain to the universes inside you for me. I know animals. They don't grow to be that wonderful and unfailingly affectionate with real life assholes. Busted you. Busted you. Busted you. I love you with my whole heart and that is never going to change. I hate to think of you lying there in pain. I hope they've given you plenty of the good stuff and that they don't try any more hurting things to keep you sucking air another day.
You big beautiful brute, may the buddhas of the ten directions use your particles for light. You have been a hero. You have accomplished hundreds of times what most men ever do. You have paid back the world a thousandfold for the energy you used. Let no one ever doubt that. You have been so kind to me when I needed it so badly that I promise I will work to make sure not an ion of that ends up wasted.
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