This week has been hard.
A long report completed today, a ten hour slog across a muddy swamp infested with errant mosquitoes of mediocrity. Dodging bad karma crocodiles as they lunge forward hoping for a mouth full of rotting flesh.
That’s how it felt
Yesterday was worse. $2400 of mediation with an excellent judge that unfortunately had no chance of settling a case with a crazy person. We did learn a few things though. Some confirmation on Munchausen by proxy. That part was pretty crazy. I wish I could repeat the whole story, but the names have been changed to protect the litigious. Focus on the points of the law.
We’ve got this… Like potholes in the street.
As I walked away, the bear lunged at me. When I looked, he was right where he always was. It didn’t alarm me, I’ve seen these sorts things too many times to be surprised anymore. We go to trial next Monday. Assuming we get heard, I will be completely inside my head for several days. Watching and analyzing everything. Maybe if my mind is calm enough I will reach out while in the courtroom. Just to see what’s there.
It could get interesting in ways I haven’t thought of.
We will either win or lose. Winning means the end. The end of the endless nightmare. Twenty-seven years of eating shit. That said, the door has to shut at some point. All doors do. The gods swim and swirl as we drift through them unaware of what they are. To pray is to throw your thoughts into the great nothingness for whence there is no end.
I want to pull back and experience it all at a greater level. Where it is all one continuous flow of time. Life and death, birth and rebirth. All at once, all the same always.
To sit on that vast desert once again. Hot steel surrounding me as I smoke a thick cigar, seated in the cupola of a tank. Where my worse worry is just staying alive. Perhaps that is the simpler life.
Life and death.
Not court battles with monsters or ex-monsters. Battles in hardened steel. The same stainless 1911 on my hip, perhaps in a tanker holster then. 45 ACP, nine hundred and fifty feet per second. Flex body armor making me sweat.
The enemy should be better defined. Monsters that hide in plain sight. Faces with masks, but dead inside. A rotting corpse that is dead to everyone that can truly see. But most can’t so they remain fooled.
When I was younger, I dreamed of a boat in the Bahamas. An honest living in a beautiful place, looking for the end. The end never comes. We just keep dying over and over again. Endlessly reliving the same things over and over until we finally learn something even if we never do.
So wash, rinse and repeat.
It’s not a moon…