we're ramping up to the holiday season. as i type i'm drinking a sierra nevada 2006 celebration ale, which, as the name implies, is brewed and bottled once a year. yet, the weather today was like a warm spring day. fall had disappeared for the moment and even tho my clock tells me it is 20 minutes to midnight i sit with the window open to the warmish air.

trying to find a collorary to today's elections in poetry. if people wanted change so badly then most of the contests would not be so close. the works of thomas mcgrath, an old radical poet blacklisted by mccarthy for communist sympathies, come close.

i was battling a very mild case of the blues last week, topped by moments of extreme stress. no biggie, i worry about my mental state only when i can't laugh at shit. i have an idiot's delight in humor, which means i laugh at dumb sitcoms, commercials, texts, comedies, and so on. i'm talking noisy, big, piss-yr-neighbors-off kind of laughing. so that was still there, if only in a more subdued fashion. and so it goes, late last week i dreamt a sort of movie-narrative where the ending had someone, i can't recall who, say that it was all good. life sucks, but there's so much here in the world you need 20 lifetimes.

you do. so here's a poem by mcgrath because we are all fucked and yet the velocity of living brings out the pulsing rhythms of iggy pop's 'lust for life' cuz lust, love, life is perhaps the fuel that drive the engine.

Last Will and Testament

for Tomasito

Son,
Forgive me:
When you were little,
I made some money,
Once,
And saved it
For what they call
Your "future"
And,
Alas,
I did it without
Robbing a bank.

Forgive me, son.
(And all other children) that,
One time,
I made an agreement with
The enemy.