Desolation Angel

I dreamed that The Amazing Bob died (which he did – nine years ago Friday) and I could no longer afford to stay here in Valhalla. I was alone. Not only did I have to move but I couldn’t even afford a shitty-ass room in a shared apartment in the most rundown building on the worst street in the last ungentrified, still sketchy neighborhood in Boston. I didn’t even have a cat to console me.

This dream scenario is light-years from reality. During those horrific early grief days I had Jen, Oni, Coco, Rocco, Hillel, Celeste, and other friends caring for me. I didn’t need to leave Valhalla. Still don’t.

 So, what’s the dream about and why am I having it now? As I said on Sunday, this anniversary of TAB's exit is hitting hard. I blame America’s Fascist Party (formerly known as the Republican Party). All of ‘em, including every last motherfucking tiny-brained person who voted for them. Also too, I fault those fuckers who didn’t vote whether it’s because they think their vote makes no difference or they were too damn lazy to get off the damn couch. AND there’s a special place in Hell for the eejits who voted for that grifting Russian puppet Jill Stein. She shows up every four years to get attention not unlike Punxatawney Phil. At least Phil, who has the decency and care to show up every year, isn't helping throw critical elections to Russian assets.

I wish I believed Hell was real. I might take comfort in believing that all these assholes would burn forever in a lake of fire (or suffer much more creative Jan Van Eyck or Hieronymus Bosch brand of eternal punishment)  

The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality. 
~ Dante Alighieri 

Maybe this world is another planet’s hell. 
~ Aldous Huxley  

Which world though? If it’s one in this solar system, I’m betting on Uranus! (of course and yes I’ve the sense of humor and maturity of an 11 year old)

I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea. 
~ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground 

Same, dude, same. Drop a spot of Jamo in mine, please.

And, as Sartre said, Hell is other people. I think me and him would have gotten along just fine – at a distance for both our sakes.

Meanwhile back at Grief City – Ten understands me so well. He brought me onion rings, tatertots, and vegan sausages for brekkie in bed this morning. YOU might think this sounds absolutely beyond weird and icky BUT it was precisely what I was craving.

Grief changes shape, but it never ends.
~ Keanu Reeves

Sometimes solace looks like onion rings for breakfast.

And I believe in the future
We shall suffer no more
Maybe not in my lifetime
But in yours, I feel sure
Song dogs barking at the break of dawn
Lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm
And these streets
Quiet as a sleeping army
Send their battered dreams to heaven, to heaven
For the mother’s restless son
Who is a witness to, who is a warrior
Who denies his urge to break and run
Who says, “Hard times?
I’m used to them
The speeding planet burns
I’m used to that
My life’s so common it disappears”
And sometimes even music
Cannot substitute for tears
~ Paul Simon, The Cool, Cool River 

Grief is the price we pay for love.
~ Queen Elizabeth II