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It's been a slow sort of day. I don't remember much of it. I don't think I've left the house. I cooked a one-pot meal that I'm dreading to eat for the next few days. Jesus, I could die of my own cooking. I gotta become a nicer person or at least pretend to be until i can get up with somebody who can cook. Jesus F. Christos!
I spent much of the afternoon and early evening with my friend Billy who is an American Indian... sort of. He is actually a mulatto of some sort like everybody else around here. He claims to be a Indian, and he actually is, and yet he's not. He don't know any Indian gods. His own parents worshiped some Palestinian god of dubious ex-is-tense. Gods being what God's are, what possible difference could it make?
He's wealthy. If we hadn't been friends for over twenty years he probably wouldn't talk to me. He'd like for me to forget I'm poor so he wouldn't feel as though he's stooping in order to be my friend. I'm thinking I'm doing him a favor even though he betrayed the cause. It's all I'm giving up, and so he has to take it or do without. I'm not the sort of person you wanna do without. Guaranteed!
I'm aware that might seem arrogant, but there is a reason staying friendly with me, once gained, and that's because I'll tell you what I think because I'm true to myself, not you. That's what I hope for from people. I'm not seeking the truth as much as I am knowing how you feel. Then, I can make adjustments to a world beyond words.
Not for a minute do I think my friends know the real truth about the condition of the world I live in. Why would I obligate them in such a manner? It's perfectly and consciously aware to me that we each see what we take for granted. Why would we not?
Billy has lived the sort of life that is as opposite to my own of anybody I'm consciously aware of. One of my proudest moments was when he came and asked me if I would fit pipe for him down near Atlanta, Georgia. One weekend while we were working there we took off and went to Chattanooga and Lookout Mountain.
It was the first mountain he had actually ever seen in his life, much less drove to the top of and looked down on the Tennessee River. Vicariously, I enjoyed his initial excitement as if it were my own. Previous to this occasion it was difficult for me to think that somebody had never seen a mountain in their entire life.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
