My mother died yesterday.... or was it last week? Either way her funeral is this Sunday and I- won't be present. I have no other family, and now I've lost the only real connection I have to any human in this world. If mother was alive, right now, she would reprimand me for never having children.
Going out and being irresponsible is my forte, I could choke a child with all the partying I do in a day. Anyways, my friends would prefer me to be happy, than to spend my time moping over harsh realities of life and the discourse that follows.
So, since the death of my mother, which may have been months ago, I've bought a yacht which is so decrepit that it's hull is ready to collapse in on itself. Soon the fish in the lake will have a new home of rotting wood to reside in. It reminds me of the last time I saw mother three, four months ago - or was it years? She was eighty-five, and on her death bed. The boat on the other hand is a real fixer-upper, and as a tribute to mother I promised myself that she will be up and running again soon. I purchased the boat nearly two months ago, as the flowers began to bloom on the first day of spring. But I can't be sure. You can never be sure.
Weekends come and go work is usually on the days where parties end early the night before. My calendar has no sevens or eights so I've stopped keeping track of what's when or who's where. I'm preoccupied with notions....
Why do we care about things outside of our immediate life?
Do moments multiply? and, do they really provide clarity about anything? Or do they confuse us, creating the misconception that we can actually understand anything through perception alone? I wonder if brains could perceive things without bodies, or whether they have evolved, become too lazy.
After every thought there arises a single question that perturbs my innards. Because nothing, to me, is more mysterious than what I am going to do with myself tomorrow night.
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