20.7.20


he sat down next to a man on a bus

the seat was empty as were most on the bus it was late  

since it was a public bus he didnt ask
                                         he sat

he usually chose to sit beside the most colourful charactersthe ones who thought perhaps that by their dress or behaviour theyd keep an entire bench to themselves

he liked to rain on singular parades


as he walked up on the man weaving between passengers who preferred to stand he tried to make eye contact

the mans eyes started up briefly then fell

the man blinked


to blink to be submissive not that it mattered to him 
                                                        he sat
Excuse me. I’m sitting here.

Yes  An Im sitting beside you

I’M SITTING HERE. asif talking louder would removeexcise him

You are . . an youre welcome to half the bench  No more Keep to your half its a public bus

Move.  I’M sitting here.

You are  an now Im sitting beside you 

You should move.

he took a paperback from his jacket pocket ignoring his comment I like to read on the bus Its soothing

You better move.
                  he still hadnt looked at him he reclinedleaned against the window at his right refusing to move his legs sitting on his hip bent knees his shoeshis soles nearly on his hip

Me I like to read undisturbed But I dont worry about my clothes get messed upwhich apparently appeals to you as well But I do careone might say I care  enthusiastically I have unbridled enthusiasm . a happy assessment . . a passion . for my enthusiasm

You enthusiastic


Are you enthusiastic


the man titled his headsmirked casually still he hadnt made eye contact ignored him said nothing to his enthusiasm query

he didnt know anyone who liked to be ignored  so he bellied up to the bar sitting down heartily beside his ignorant slovenly buddy  enthusiasm sat happily on the stool next to him  he always saved a stool at the bar for his enthusiasm
he sighed he acted disheartenedhe acted asif he was standing to leave Slovenly might think to leave he stood just enough for leverage then lunged-clasped the man by the back of his knee nearest the seatback and yanked him bodily so that his face smeared down the bus window giving it a big wet kiss
                                                                   he may have been too enthusiastic the torque spun Slovenlyspun him so that his French kiss came off the glass and ended with him on his knees in the aisle his forehead on the seatback

he hunched over him and said in a fierce whisper Thank you kindly Hospitable of you to share the bench

he said something in reply but it was lost in the vinyl seatback 


Slovenly made quite the picture likely hed hang it in his minds eye a bit for a while he needed distraction in the worst way Slovenly briefly usurped the image he was trying to shake
                                                                    the image of his daughter ill inclined in a hospital bed in her sunroom behind her were the spines of her collected books on a walled built-in bookcase

she had been sleepingwhen she could upright for better than six months

she was burned into his eyes


Slovenly pushed himself up off his knees off the bench and stood
                                                                     You motherfucker! he stood over him threateningly
he raised his eyes to Slovenlys  he didnt care for what he saw

YOU . . then Slovenly stoppedcut himself short maybe he didnt like what he saw either -- his crippling – reflecting in the pools of what were surely deep black eyes

he pushed past him roughly and sprawled in a bench several seats ahead




he recognised he provoked him


he also recognised had violence been incurred win or lose  it would not soothe his anger or his sorrow

he recognised the hole in himself

a hole never to be filled


he had other holes

you live you do

he just had no idea it would be as deep as it is
                                                   the deepest blackest hole in his life

1910,  Saturday,  1  2. 20
1202,  Monday,  20  7. 20



he was a wrioter now  

when he was younger conceived of himself as a writer he didnt pay attention to what people thought of himwhat they thought wasnt worth a horses ass

all bets were off when he became a wrioter
                                              then he could care lessgive a fuck it was unmitigated elation  balls out fantasy truth and corruption
                               an it was about time corruption enjoyed a bright positive light bent or twist
                                                                                                              because prior he had sought to hurt corruption by any means at his disposal unfortunately to date that meant physical punishments an his fisthis broken fingers and knuckles were beginning to protest

hed always been slow on the uptake Yew got a hard head his Maw would say he was getting it
                                                                                                       overuse a muscle or any physical article an it comes back on ya an sometimes more grim than yahad employed it


he was a convalescing wrioter he hadnt been that before

he wondered what it would be like


what his mind would make of it

                                     not that hed mind

1731,  Sunday,  18 7. 20
1022,  Monday,  20  7. 20

$143K -- killed


Sunday the president said regarding whether he would accept the results of the 2020 Election “I have to see. Look, you — I have to see. No, I’m not going to just say ‘yes.’ I’m not going to say no and I didn’t last time either.” https://time.com/5868739/trump-election-results-chris-wallace/
                                                                               if he loses he has a binary choice  he can either walk out like a man or hell be carried out probably calling – famously – for Mommy! Mommy!

1644,  Monday,  20  7. 20