SELL the other house?

 Could it be that I am sliding into deciding to SELL? Inevitability reigns over me like a fog. Desire to make little movies of reflection, like all this writing. Little nothings that don’t really add up because it’s not done yet. While listening to pulsations of Purcell. How nice and quiet this pre-dawn joy can be. gee Gee lying on my customary seat. The wonderful Indian guy at the takeout, explaining the possibilities of the dishes. Chili Garden, the Chinese place Jessie had ordered from on Grub-hub, had a gigantic iron steel gate over the entire store front, a tidal wave of nobody home and the aroma from Mood Cafe, was just so pleasant, for Jessie and I, holding hands on Rosh a Shana. She says she’s a bad Jew right as a family, also looking Jewish but a tad more middle class walks by, four abreast, the young man holding a child, the wife pushing a stroller, so they can’t really scrunch down very well on the sidewalk. Do I love this neighborhood, the same as ever. Since 1977, oh my goddess, lay me down to die! Whatever happens next. I WANT so much.
Just need to admit that amazingly this relationship is working out very well, after so many years of wandering in the desert, like Moses and company. Me, a lost Christian finding a lost Jew perhaps, in the post modern world of bigger than ever forces washing over and around. Can I say these things out loud, lost Judeo-Christian children feeling Anarchist-loneliness, where we could sing the song without any misspeaking ‘By the Waters of Babylon’, we laid down and cried, and cried, and cried for thee Zion. Except it should be known that the supposed ‘real’ land of Zion, Israel is turning into an apartheid state before the eyes of the entire world. People weren’t able to see S. Africa so well back in the 1940’s, pre TV, even if they were predisposed to do something about it. So it’s pomo all over again then now, lostness and repetition pounding like the saddles on the four horsemen’s steeds. Good thing for me the real Zion is here in America, the real real (idea) of Zion. If I was interested in that being true …. In passing through I suppose. Looking for the Goddess behind it all, perhaps, and before that the way way back (900,000 years ago!) a tribe of 1,280 who lasted for 10,000 years in some portion of Africa, with as Jessie pointed out a wider gene pool than probably any random 1,280 people you pick out of, say, a stadium of football fans, or at the theater watching ‘Hamlet’ or any one neighborhood in any city in the world, or any Amazon tribal gathering. Perhaps tribes don’t gather to the size of 1,280 people though, so scratch that one. The point is the amazing lost tribe phenomenon of 1,280 people, average, for about 10,000 years are everyone’s literal ancestors, and wouldn’t you like to meet one or more of them to say hello, how are you?! Thanks, good should, for whatever and how much of whoever you may be, you gave to it, for it, from it, for me, in the end. The very end. Thanks! Zardoz laughing in the sky. Schedule that Zardoz viewing with Chris for next week sometime, will ya? I’ve got to get this movie making weirdness, that eats at me, onto the ground somehow, step by grueling step. Like facing myself into a hall of mirrors. Aaaah! That could be the first shot of my narcissistic disemboweling John Wilson/Sherman’s March type movie. The one that’s supposedly about: can I make a short movie cuz I’m turning into an old man before my very eyes and thank god I’m settling down with a beloved, even whilst weeping inside about all those left behind, who already went to join the great behind, the one with the lost tribe in the sky. Jeb most of all, my brother, with Richard right next to him. The main thing to think about is how we are all interchangeable parts on this human scale march through time, a thought around which so many have tried to put their hearts and minds. And so many haven’t, the lead procrastinator in chief being ol’ Trump-head himself, the proverbial turd on a stick if there ever was one. I’ve been known to lay a ripe one often enough, but that guy! He needs an exorcist, basically, on a different scale. Could it be on the scale of the media, of the movies and the music and internet? Perhaps. We shall see.
On the topic of said culture war: I’m intrigued by the word/concept ‘thirst trap’ and I think its probably women or men dressing in very revealing clothes, like the two at Stupid Baby’s. Prancing about, I looked and didn’t look. I suppose I wanted eyes, really, so thats the point, like daggers to the heart, where does the soul lie? Mine is with Jessie, right? Yes, my soul is with Jessie and I’m a whore of Babylon, in my way, proudly. I like to dress the way I dress and I’m sure, like Naas said “You’re a hot Dad” in a text. She wants to find a ‘hot Dad’ or somebody! of her own she goes on to explain. These endless texts she leaves for me sometimes with occasionally Colin or Zack chiming in with their remarks. And today might get together with her at the Rittenhouse Art Fest, a harmless moment I’m sure.