11.26.2009 Similar to a vice I feel pressed upon, fatty at the sides (under my chicken wing) Time here creeps slowly with tension under long fingernails around a corner. There is tension in the heart of the fowl thats why the Stuffin' was in a dish.
And they showed up without their mom, almost as heartbroken as ours over a fucking dog. At the table, in a square dish a heaping plate of delusion plopped itself in my place and a dabble of dribble landed on everyone's nose but mine and mine own
And yes, thanks what I'm thankful for. A right mind, often misplaced but right, and that keeling pressure that keeps me beat down, the promise of outbursts in nonsensical reprimands, the Angst-- oh the adult Angst-- built up over roughly 40 years to one day send an implosion to our homestead, then the debris clear over Mt St. Helen. What a feat! Forgive me here for finding the constant oppression, illusionary misfortune and obstinate dysfunction a matter to be seen under comic light. Forgive me now for taking humor. Where pity belongs, but here I am thankful for the will my mother gave me to undo the tightened vice and laugh at those left helpless by it's pressure
