then I was
a young man a
thousand years old.

and now I am an old man
waiting to be born.
–Bukowski–

Jesus, I woke up today and found out that California has burnt to the fucking ground. When the world is on fire you tend to think about death.

My brother-in-law put his boxer down today. He was 11 years old and was one hell of a fucking good dog. I have known almost no pain greater than that of losing a good dog. People piss you off. People let you down. Fuck people. But a dog…when a dog fucks up, they show real remorse. They actually care about you and what you think about them down to the core of their being. A good dog has a pure type of concern about you that is unfettered by what you can do for them in return.

So while the world burns and we toss the bodies of friends and dogs and the dogs of friends onto the funeral pyre, strike up the lute and let’s profess our mutual sorrow at the general fucked upness of constantly having to lose the ones we love.

We are each hundred thousand year old babies still waiting to be born.

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