The Guillotine

 

     Awaken at 3 am, can’t sleep. As if so much more happened with the notary arriving yesterday right when I’d awakened from a morning nap! I’d gotten up and was typing into the journal about a tai chi taoist philosophy of life and I heard a soft knock. Which I ignored. then hearing it again. And then one more time, I’m reading the Rexroth to see if I can understand something in it. So I realize by then somebody is gently for real. Its not an Amazon driver. So I go down and peeking out I remember its the notary. Like oh it’s THAT day! I apologize and he’s very nice, a round placid white guy, walking softly and saying what a nice house. I say oh yes the woodwork is really great here. And then its signing, quickly, on the dining room table. Even before I can remember my glasses when I go to get my ID. Sign here and here, date this, and I notice he doesn’t know the date which I do because it was Juneteenth yesterday. And by now, two days from Juneteenth I’m thinking how much were those signings, of this that and the other, and oh by the way they’d prefer not to wire the money but a certified check the next day, which was unexpected but I suppose understandable, something could go wrong from my end and they probably want certainty and control of all the details, what did I see in that Swedish crime series last night, a quote from Schiller about details - and then the abyss! They glossed over it pretty quickly but I see details of the subtitles on the screen in my mind’s eye, a few words, and the name Schiller, with a C? And each time I sign my name it’s getting harder and I’m spacing and messing up the D in the middle, which I remember when I started putting it in there. Probably my twenties, I felt like I was putting a hole into the middle of my name and I wasn’t sure why I was doing that. Hugh D Wattles, plus its so long, HughDWattles… I’d rather gloss over the whole damn thing like I’ve seen some people do, a scribble that spluges into a line with maybe a crossed t somewhere to come back to like a flourish. But anyways, I just concentrate and push through it, this signing, and by now I’m thinking, thats what they, someone, wants you to feel and think (the big Other, undoubtedly) like its a performance of self, whilst they are stealing your life from you, your piece of the rock. I say oh my god I can’t wait to get rid of that home equity loan and if the nice fellow who compliments me on the beautiful house has a couple of brain cells knocking around in there he probably sees that I’m some dumb tattooed ex-hippie who smoked too much back in the day and their empire expands while mine contracts. Big numbers win over little numbers anyday. Yang takes yin, absolutely. Until. And something about how I thank him again as he leaves for coming all the way into the city and then shut the door and lock it while he’s gently striding down the stairs.

I’d like to say that there IS and should be something about intelligence to be recognized. That it should be and could be possible to become smarter about things, and see the larger picture in a more constant way, as if having a third eye which could do that for you. If you can just turn it on, without even talking about it. But probably it actually takes others with whom one can talk about this mythical larger picture. This unfocused and variable future where anything could go in any direction, it vaguely seems.
But one thing I do think is that property in these east coast cities will stay popular and those who can own with the long run in mind, well they've got the power. People are going to have to move out of the climate danger zones, displacement will occur. And as we saw with the universities shutting down pro-Palestine occupations, such as the University of Pennsylvania, only a few blocks from here, we know where the power lies. The right wing is crushing the minimal freedoms of speech that are left in higher education. And with Godard closing, and also the University of the Arts, a 150 year old institution for artists in downtown Philly. It ain’t cheap to live down there any more.
We switched up the car for my truck, parking it in the garage we rent from the hard working Chinese guy who owns the student rental house on the corner. Someone was busting windows on cars on our block, up to 8 in one night, and not stealing anything. The word was that it was radicals, protesting the Gaza genocide in our bourgeoisie neighborhood. Now my truck is on the street, with it's tinted windows from that white landscaper guy from up in Roxborough. I took the sticker off of it that said titties and guns or some such. Left the squirrel nut sticker on, added a Dump Trump sticker, bright red.

Its summer solstice today. Something to celebrate. The sun showers love on the entire earth, even if it is a heat wave.