the walnut tree was cut down

from his back porch the view to where it stood   the unfurled canvas he looked on every day for four years was abruptly altered  a magnificent piece ripped away  the walnuts wide-spread up-lifted branches enfeebled by disease dropping finger after finger lichen-encrusted debris had persisted

trees dont take a bullet to the brain and die

their deaths have a distinct art

only when the demands of its sheer weight can no longer be throttled does it collapse

his bet was that the walnut wouldnt fall for years

it didnt have strong winds to suffer as it stood on the lee of a hill behind the house or would it have to endure brutal rains freezes or snow  this was California 

it would let go when its cellulose came unbound  and not before

his landlords thought different

they acted to protect their interest which they said were his too   
                                                 the tree threatened the house

A threatening tree  he asked  wondering if the walnut thought itself threatening was as absurd as he didhis thought-process informed by all the houses he lived in since a boy were razed

he wondered in kind if a tree would kill him or a house would fall on his head(there were worse ways to die)

he wasnt able to communicate to them the absurdity implied by their tree threat  The house the housethehouse was their mantra and fixation 

so they had it cut down

and like the family cats whose deaths he witnessed he too witnessed the walnuts dismemberment
it hewed limb from limb

it was all he could do 

he failed it 

he circled the tree ran his hands across its aged husky trunk and gently slapped it as the bucket the treecutter and chainsaw descended from overhead

it was his punishment

he loved trees  

he nurtured and replanted apricot seedlings from the yard to make amends  tending the ones he could and cajoled for the care of those he gave away

his daughter took three

she teased Youre becoming Johnny Apricotseed

when he visited it was good for his heart to see that they flourished

Whats Dad doing her husband asked

she laughed Hes visiting his children

and when he helped her put up jam he tasted what solace should taste like  sweet and delicious

their flesh anointing him

Johnny Apricotseed  

hed been called worse

he put out his cigar

he took another sip of beer

despite the canvas was rent the tree was gone    
                                     it still lived in his eyes

1343,  Sunday,  11  12. 16

laying in bed with his eyes shut wide open he saw what were either red stars like snowflakes descending through the black sky into a tilted ironworked shaft over him its keen edges and planes and emptiness tinged soft-coral or they were drunken fire-embers rising up on gentle curlicued drafts surrendering to the night . . .
 

                                                                    they awakened again in his eyes

he remembered them as he sat on his sofa barely occupied by the mundane goings-on on the television screen  beside him at his hip was his clipboard paper and pen . . . the sliding glass door windowpanes beyond the screen seductively caught his eye as a suddenspied skirt might  enough so  that he casually lifted his eyes and saw and sighed Yah nice and dropped his eyes . . . but he lifted them again not sure what it was he saw . . . the windowpanes their glib squares reminded him of the tinged tilted I-beams . . . and either on them or behind them or in front of them he saw . . . behind them he saw water falling as if he were behind a waterfall looking out through it into a blue day . . . or reflected on the glass and before it through it vapours shimmering   rising    spirits . . . and spirits would be a fair guess because the house was haunted  though he usually saw them as figures a mans a womans the man in the hall unsure seen then retreating into the hall disappearing as he went and the woman her face and figure floating over him as he lay in bed  saying his name   he was more shocked at her whispering his name than by her presence

he sat transfixed  watching  watching the rising or falling or reflection 

                                                       then out of the corner of his eye beside him his clipboard sat something  something that was very old  and patient   a warm presence    he knew if he turned his head to look directly at it it would disappear  so he didnt  he sat in suspense enjoying his unknown companion  he listened  he felt   he existed beside it    maybe thats all it meant to relate or confirm  his existence  now   and eternally   and it without prostration or devotion or celebration or confirmation  a zealous existence  a devious humour  a delicious slippery vapour coming and going as wished   unencumbered    unrestrained

 

    

2026,  Monday,  19  12. 16

1018,  Twosday,  20  12. 16

rituals

     he was ticked and he thought of ritualsmiserable rituals handed off generation to generation(no better than their prejudices)  their rituals(or shams) pliantly stoked and invoked imparted and attested willfully asserted and blindly acceded without questionnot a single question challenging either their validity or necessity 

reallywho would dare challenge Ritual

ticked  he couldnt imagine who wouldnt or why wouldnt they

were they habits?

when ritual becomes habit  then sensibly it is a habitits no longer ritual   

habit subsumes its place  erodes its memory  and remembering why it was a memory isnt remembered 

human beings are habit-forming creatures

perhaps the reason why memory has little currency

he was convinced animals did not have memory

he based his belief his evidence of when he cared for his familys six cats

when one died the others came by and cautiously sniffed its body

they seemed to recognise something  

they seemed a bit startled or peeved  

then they hurried off

otherwise they seemed unimpressed

the next day at their feeding bowls they didnt seem to recognise they were one less  that one was missing 

hence cats animals havent memory

recently however bigfoot his outdoor cat was chased from the bed he had made up for him by a strange bitch who wandered onto the porch pulled apart bigfoots bedding and laid in it for hours

the bitch was gone the next morning

he gathered up the bedding washed it  scrubbed and washed the porch and wall behind where the bedding lay 

then he restored bigfoots bed

itd been a week now

and while bigfoot did return late he did not take to the bedding and only reluctantly fed from his bowls when he took them down off of the porch

he supposed that suggested memory or at least a kind of triggered survival instinctand isnt memory shouldnt memory be instinctive to survival or is memory only set(compassion only set) when a being is terribly frightened or suffers pain at the hands of an experience

bigfoots trust in him remained

he allowed him to approach and pet him even pick him up as he talked to him

but if he approached the porch with him in his arms bigfoot became antsy and was obviously discomforted

hed set him down and bigfoot would warily quickly slink off

bigfoot wasnt injuried

but he had to have been existentially frightened

apparently memory set by fright or pain was legitimate

he had a long memory(ur-memory)

he was disposed to it by the brilliant white light that penetrated his sleep and the warmth of his blood on his throat and chest when he fell out of bed and split his chin on the iron bedframe

he was scarcely a year old

being ticked has its advantages and reflections  if you can stay them

1209,  Thursday,  22  12. 16