What were you thinking

               whenever asked what you were thinking you can bet dollars to doughnuts(dont ask)  obviously you werent thinking  so why the fuck ask What was I thinking

You wanna a confession?

Alright  YehI wasnt thinking

not thinking had only hurt him twice badly in his lifeonce someone else not thinking almost killed him with a backhoe

but it missed(he heard it snap its finger and say Nuts!)

                                       therefore in his ponderous middling life hed obviously thought more than he didnt and (hed think) everyones allowed a respite

                                                                    I was thinking Id roll me a fatty have a beer and read some surrealist poetry or Finnegans Wake  which is psychedelic or in Joycean parlance psychedicklickhe hoped Joyce got his cock sucked while he wrote(might explain things)

I found I could make sense of Finnegans its flighty synapses bizarre connotations while I was getting headat least for a little while before turned inside out

                     . . . When their bride was married all my belles began ti ting. A ring a ring a roaring! Then everyone will hear it. Whoses wishes is the farther to my thoughts. But I’ll plant them a poser for their nomanclatter. When they’re out with the daynurse doing Chaperon Mall. Bright pigeons all over the whirrld will fly with my mistletoe message round their loveribboned necks and a crumb of my cake for each chasta dieva(page 147  First Erudition) . . .

nice thing about Joyce was every time he read Finnegans he Came away thinking something different from when he read it last  a perpetual thinking machine bound in ink and pages and Eternity

Fuck the Great American Novel!

Americans hadnt the soul hadnt the  whahad Jung called it   ahyes The Collective Unconsciousness of the European continent  fresh Americans had raped and pillaged and plundered their continent and killed it pithed it Good and Proper  it tried reeling out from under Their feet like a dazed snake too stunned to rattle and bite  and was stomped and stomped stomped and crushed it vitals spattered then oozed like wildhoney bitterly in the dirt  off walked the anttrail of fresh Americans spoiling as they went

I rolled me a fatty and had me two beer

Either you or I asked me  What were you thinking                                                                       

Thatll teach ya to aske

1404,  Saturday,  17  12. 16

1439,  Monday,  19  12. 16

Bob Dylan  Rainy Day Woman #13&35  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0Zxd5jp-lI

Jonny Lang  Darker Side  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsL7c0pLBsE

All the leaves are gone he muttered(brown yes)

                         inside his head began The Mamas and the Papas And the sky is grey

his rude facile memory always has to put its two cents in

he and it were linked in a malleable crazy daisy chain vying for its head forcing the other to follow talking over each other louder and louder to be heard foremost

he had to admit that when he spoke from memory and things went sideways he couldnt remember what he was saying what his point was he wasnt embarrassed  he didnt drop the ball or fail

his memory didGOTCHA! SEE? You aint all that Always buttin in

Maybe now youll allow me to recall you

but his memory never did

ham-handed heavy-footed irascible it always had something to say and itd be damned if it was going to wait its turnit interjected it jumped in with both feet

he had almost convinced himself when he died his memory would separate and get along fine without him

pure conjecture   because hed never know  not really

sometimes he actually tried to conjure up how thatd play out

but it never seemed  feasibleHa he laughed as if feasible was ever exigent to its parlay Not his memory not ever

he supposed itd be just fine roaming around untethered  scot-free

1303,  Friday,  16  12. 16

0959,  Sunday,  18  12. 16

The Mamas & the Papas  California Dreamin  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhZULM69DIw

he went to the frig and from among a selection of craft beers he bought for their reunionitd been eight weeks since they spent a day and a night together  he took a Narwhal from the shelf 

he bought it especially for her

it was one of her favorites 

he took the bottle outdoors  and as he stood on the porch sipping it watching the sun beginning to set gently blushing the skys cheek unexpectedly she calledshe hadnt seen fit to call in the past two days

he figured hed give her plenty of rope(maybe to hang herself)

he wasnt terribly kind  

he was a matter-of-fact 

                 she didnt take well to him reminding her that eight weeks had passed(she wasnt counting she said -- Then maybe it isnt as important to you he replied) or that the eight weeks equaled their prior separation which had just preceded it

when they finally hung up she said I love you

he didnt get to tell her because the line went dead before he couldhe wanted to tell her that her I love you had been a sling it had become a bandage and fearfully now it was transforming into an awkward tourniquet

he wasnt being hyperbolic

he tried to impress upon her in their conversation that it was critical to the health of their relationship that they schedule time for themselvestheir relationship shouldnt be constantly and consistently slipped onto a back-burner for her family  her peculiarly dramatic needy family

she tersely reminded him that she hadnt been feeling well  Ive been to the ER . .

. . And Ive taken you to the ER every time prior to now since we met eight years agoyou cant seem to wrap your head around that your ER visits are contingent on the stress you seem unwilling to let go of of a mother who in raw terms has told you if you diedif you died  she couldnt care less  That cow she dare calls herself a mother Giving birth doesnt entitle one to call themselves motherAnd she did shit for her mother when her mother who did care and raise her needed help  And Im welcome to my say because Im a parentI raised two daughtersI know what a parent is . . . .

. . . . the line stood dead between them for almost a minute . . . .   

in a hushed voice he said into the receiver If we dont nourish ourselves treat ourselves with respect our relationship can slip away   Tables are tilted our settings are slipping . .

. . she said they werent

Im trying to help you visualise  Our relationship has lost its primacy   Though evidently not in your eyes If you dont care for something anything a plant anything which needs tending
It dies

Here at our home I tend to our plants and animals You assumed I would I assumed you would care for us despite being away 

You refuse to admit youre overwhelmed you think you have it by the hornsYou dont  Its gores you to your very being every day  And every night you try to resuscitate your strength and every night it grows more and more weak less resilient   It hangs by its fingers

The suns setting babe

We used to watch it every dayI know realistically that things would changeit was inevitable  I didnt see you throwing it over for someone who blatantly disrespects you could care less for you  Your mothers a selfish bitch

I try and catch the sun set every day for us  Im optimisticprobably dense  but thats who I am  Stab optimism in the heart spike it through its brain  it reels stubbornly   it can die

but the line went dead

he was trying to revive it

it seemed she didnt know it was bleeding and trying to staunch it by himself he was struggling

it was probably a good thing he struggled

he could relate

it wasnt new

he just thought he might have gotten past it from before  and before wasnt a place he wanted to be again

death isnt easy to recover from

1638,  Sunday,  4  12. 16