We went down in the rain to see the Wild Woman of Borneo and she has made that place her bitch. She reigns over her minions, the staff is always coming over and holding her hand, patting her head, older addicts come up and tell us they are watching over her, don’t worry, don’t worry- and she knows it is all her due.

She is beautiful and glowing and frightened like horses get frightened but she won’t show it, not to anyone, not ever.

She throws off sparks. She’s like the man in the planet at the end of Eraserhead. Disfigured, burned, pulling the levers that move the world.

She is glad to see us.

That is a thing I would have cut out my liver to have happen, and it’s mine for free.


I know there are worse places, and sadder, more broken people, and more loss, and more anguish, and more guilt and blame and horror and terror and meanness and vile hatred and orneryness in the world, but that place will do until real trouble gets here.

Our troubles are but small, and we have experienced the tenderness of mercy more often than we’ve a right to expect or to ask for.

Again and again we are spared the worst.


Today we polished the dog in preparation for Thanksgiving. The hedge got trimmed and I did not lose any fingers or even parts of fingers. The garden got weeded and raked and cleaned and it sparkles like a new dime.

I took the dog out to Lone Palm and walked the low cliffs over the dark sea and there was a cold wind blowing hard from the sea and dark clouds and rain spitting and from the sea, arching over the low flatlands and pinning the foothills rose a vivid, pulsing double rainbow ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE SKY!!!


I did some art and the woman is lying on the sofa watching a Japanese horror flick and I better figure out what the fuck I’m cooking her so she doesn’t up and leave my ass.


I am blessed beyond all measure.