a dog chasing its tail, or chewing the fur off it, even.
no different
how to accept my role in the demise of my mother's sanity, when it was always in danger, she was always a likely precipice-faller. the pressure to perform, to strive, to show the hunger and ambition that she had and can only truly come from physical hunger, and poverty.
had the opposite effect
no ambition.
the only desire, to not desire, to just be with no heed for past or future. impossible
embrace the abyss, i might say, as i have. or claim
proclaim
now it's not the banter bluster of youth. chemo put all that, and so much more, into perspective.
simply grateful to be alive, again, and once more. but what else, what more, how is what i'm doing with my life showing gratitude to Ometeotl for prolonging my sojourn on this earthly plane?
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"It was comic and it was pitiable, but it wasn't less comic because the man was dead. Death doesn't change comedy to tragedy, and if that last gesture was one of affection, I suppose it was only one more indication of a human being's capacity for self-deception, our baseless optimism that is so much more appalling than our despair"
from "Across the Bridge" by Graham Greene
