I’ve been trying to apologise but haven’t been doing a good job of it. Making excuses for what I said. There is no excuse for what I said. It is wrong of me to judge others experience based on my own experience. I made sweeping statements I have no authority to make based on my feelings, not feelings from my gut but a reaction that arose out of fear. I understand that reacting out of fear is dangerous. Reacting out of fear is what produces lynch mobs and witch burnings and I am mortified that I let myself go there. I am ashamed. Most of all, I am truly sorry.
Today has been a shitty day.the urge to drink is strong
I have decided to finally read a book. One that came from England that I bought for the MA course I dropped out of. It’s translated from French. Exercises In Style by Raymond Queneau. It is really quite brilliant. I feel I can say that before I even read it. I never really got around to reading it entire I just poked at it a bit. But I cannot read Queneau’s writing itself I am reading obviously a translation. It’s a brilliant concept and Queneau is outstanding in his… I don’t want to say field or profession. I don’t know how it would be said but he is brilliant. It’s a simple story, observation, retold 99 times in 99 different styles. I think it is brilliant because it is so simple. Entertaining yet very intelligent piece of writing about writing. George had suggested it to me. George Hardie
side note: I am thinking that I thwart my own progress when I am putting myself down. I also think I try too hard to make myself do too much and I can’t do it all so I don’t do anything and then I chastise myself for not doing anything. Maybe I just need to pick one thing. I still need to spend a little time doing stuff I don’t want to do but if I just do that stuff for an hour or two a day. Then let it go till the next day and then just try one thing that I’d really like to make a habit of. I tend to make a list of things I want to do. Like I could completely change into a new person over night. I need to learn to say fuckit more.
My truck got fixed. I used it to go to the post office. It is now making a high pitched sound down near the tranny. But it seems intermittent and I can’t really hear it when I am in the truck. I don’t want to drive it.
Okay I am going back to my book. I don’t even know why I am writing now :P
Soprano sized Stella
stella and jebus
Good-bye Good Boyd
poor boyd. he came to me as chaco but i thought he looked more like a boyd. he was a good little dog. so friendly. he’d been chained most his life because he liked the taste of farm fresh chicken. i took him so he could be off the chain. he wasn’t house-trained so he was an outside dog but i let him sleep indoors in a crate by the wood stove. i only noticed that nick in his ear that morning. he’d only been with me a week. was installing the invisible fence when it happened. he was a car chaser. the truck slowed down but chaco didn’t. if only the truck had not slowed down. instinctual i guess but it doesn’t make sense to me to slow down if a dog chases. just go faster. let the dog chase. just hit the gas and get out of the dogs way. don’t slow down. the dog will get under your tires if you slow down. he ran back to me and lay down and i held him as he died. the driver stood there telling me he slowed down. what was i supposed to say. so there i was trying to make that guy feel better about killing my dog, and now i am angry about it. i carried chaco to that patch of snow, a hole was dug and i pushed the dirt in around him gently breaking up clods just wanting to be respectful of this once living being that never really did a wrong thing. it just doesn’t seem wrong to me when a dog likes the taste of farm fresh chicken. but it might be wrong for him to be living with chickens and so it was right that he came to live with me and even though it was only a week. it was a week of freedom.