Finally a day without the goddamn tremors. Until today any typing was pretty much impossible; there was no way I could write anything substantive without inexcusable typing mistakes, so I stayed offline until I could effective do this without embarrassing myself. You should see the handwriting. I find it scary.
Still, my lawyer and I are filing all the requisite papers to allow me to return to Canada as soon as possible. It will (and I hate saying it like this) be what it is.
But please understand: I call this a fight. I call this war. But there is neither violence nor malice in my mind or heart. We must all graduate beyond those notions, accept the things that happen to us, and proceed from honesty and the simple, real-world notion that we all live in this world together—therefore we have to listen beyond rule and government, become human whenever we can, and find workarounds. Dear 17184 did his level damnedest, I must say, but bureaucracy stopped him. The letter of the law.
So this is 2 p.m. in undeniable Paradise, a mogul’s dream destroyed and rebuilt through history. Trust me, these are the poems I’m working on now.
So I’m watching KCAL at mid-day while at home Wanda’s getting ready to feed the kitties. It all feels more than surreal, considering how long I may have to be away. Now I have plans, ideas, hopes; I may need the help of friends to get the four of us through this, the kitties and myself, but I trust the folks in Toronto. We’ll get through this.
Just know I love you all. There’ll still be a party, no worries.