careening

Ricocheting through the day, careening from event to post and  back again, I arrived ‘home’ to discover a note: “The Inspection has been canceled but we’ll come again on March 15th, sorry for the inconvenience.”

Given the anticipated specious and supercilious invasion of my privacy, and theft of my time, I bethought, ‘Why not give it up and call it even; once is enough!’

M had replied to my remark; “The trolls are upon me and I don’t know if I’ll have a home to return to.” To which she replied; “They’re used to herding sheep and not a wolf.” . . . I replied; “A werewolf at that!”

She knows me too well. But then indigenous people in her presence, so she seldom remarks, have called her, with awe, a White Witch. I know she witches water, long distance with a plumb bob over a map. So she is more to me than friend and confident and about, and within her presence, sometimes, my hackles rise.

Percolating since this morning’s departure: “Humility is a choice of response to humiliation and abuse inflicted.” To which I was clubbed senseless by discovery of St. Francis de Sales remarks on survival in this world we share, as noted in my previous post. I seems now, as then, we are governed by pre-chewed mystery meat neatly packaged in pink Spam parading as authority. So bored with their lives that the only life they know possible only by abusing the natives.

Despite his scintillating and slashing prose, reading Walter M. Miller’s “A CANTICLE FOR LEIBOWITZ,” an hour after supper I found myself nodding off and submerged for two hours before awakening with the usual vigor. Resulting from dreams populated by characters unseen, of great humor and wisdom, in dialog with me. Again, the only monsters I know are human and quite real to me in the ordinary of my life.

The management of this, otherwise halcyon residential complex, have made it a Gulag - a Nazi Death Camp. Making residency tenuous and tentative; experientially living in a jail; a Penal Colony exemplary of Elder Abuse in the extreme. For me the treat of eviction constant.

Resident here for six years, their occupation only recent, I had and continue to wish a peaceful death eventual. And having moved so many times before losing bits and pieces dear to me, e.g. I’m on my second or third Oxford English Dictionary in micro to mention only one item in a host of other reference materials impractical to move . . . Adapt, improvise and prevail!?

In closing, about M, who I upon occasion call The Sphinx, she does talk making autonomous suggestions welcome to myself. Given all my complaints she, at other times, more frequently, has asked; “Why don’t you move?“

Maybe, maybe not.

I have no options since the theft of my inheritance by Republicans, Stock and Bank speculators; so what else is new? Now a lesser trivial management scheme is stealing my life.

130308 22:17 careening
© 2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved