Last word

I just read the last word he ever had published,
found by his daughter, and finally
given to us
ten years after he shot himself in the head
with a .44.

That’s .06 more
than what I had in my mouth
I think the most important difference

is that I took my finger
off of the trigger
though we both have
more to say.

lifetimes & lives past…

Sitting at Cafe International, Haight & Fillmore. Walk outside the front door, a few gates to the right, I once lived there. At the time I was working for Starving Students Moving Company, & had found that through someone I worked with when it was time to leave New Method Warehouse in Emeryville, home of Short Dogs Grow, Christ on Parade – but it was time to leave, we all got evicted after years of rent strike, so I ended up here, a few gates to the right. 526, maybe – 526 Haight.

Walk out the front door of Cafe International, and walk a few gates to the left, right on the corner. Three fireplaces, mirrored livingroom, $150 per month for a small room in back, almost directly above where I’m sitting now. I can see my old window if I walk out onto the outside porch here… twenty years ago, and someone else entirely was crawling inside this skin, someone with veins worth thousands and thousands of dollars but who could still barely make rent.

I never came here then, or at least pretty close to never. I was busy doing other things.

I never expected to be here now, now twenty years from then. I didn’t expect to be anywhere, but…

I’m happy to be here now, with this type of me

inside my skin.


tests upon tests, biopsy, CT scan,  telling them one thing, telling me another entirely. It speaks to them, the Dr.s, the specialists, the people who look at me with such caring in their eyes, sometimes worry, that it’s time to take care of the things now. It’s time to take care of it befor it gets worse, and this happens, or that, those things that are just around the corner if neglected. Could be just a short trip down the road before it’s a different story and other tings, drastic, would need to be done to keep me alive.

It tells me that the road is postponed even longer, that if I do decide to leave regardless, it would, almost unquestionably, be a decision I would wish that I hadn’t made.

So I wait more, try to be good, get the treatments I need which will take perhaps a year, maybe longer – but ultimately, hopefully, the treatments will work and I can set out without worry of decomposing on the road.

The sick, stupid romantic child in me stomps his feet, runs ahead just a little bit turns around and becons, pleads for me to follow, hand outstretched for me to grab and screw it I’ll just dance as long as I can until it gets too much then find a nice cliff that I know there will be no nets to catch me, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore anyway just a final post so long and thanks for all the fish…

but no, there is more to do so much more so many more to help and show the beauty of it all, so walking back from six hours at the Dr. today I realize that there can be a compromise, a way to live that will keep me alive until I can go, still and still with the weekly treatments.

Weekly. How far can I get in a week? I can still roll, I can still go, I just need to be back for the shot, or maybe even take one dose with me, one shot that may or may not make me feel like shit and eventually, hopefully, the HepC might just might be gone, a year down the line, maybe more, 52 weeks, 70… and during that time I can get my teeth fixed, build up CultureFlux, plot, plan without being too strict or too tight, letting the Universe decide where I should go next… ah, yes, yes, yes. Don;t you see it boy?

This is the Universe as well, saying that the time is not ripe yet in no uncertain way. This is the Universe saying that it is still the waiting time, and listen… listen. Listen or this time I’ll kill you, and me, right now at least, don;t want to be dead yet. Right now at least, today, I don’t want to be. Not right now, so I will listen, wait, do what I need to do and take care of what I need to and

and I can still step away during the week, still roll, sacrifice a litte time for more,

and remain alive.


Stagnation is killing me – on the road, there was no time to decay. Things need to change soon.

I’ve been working on The White Rabbit (my motorhome) getting her ready – not too much left to do on her, only outside things… but I need to leave soon. I’ve been here far too long with too little happening.