Darts

I spent the day at my friend Keith's, with his strong wife and companion, and their clear calling son. I was there to help with household chores, the kind of chores every household requires, the kind of chores few homeowners have the time or confidence or tools or experience to do themselves. A paid job, though by the end of the day I didn't feel much like accepting any money, as I spent much of the day in a fowl mood, and I burnt up much of our collective day on a back and forth about a damn shower door, a door I misjudged, and installed, and uninstalled, that Keith and his family had to return on a Saturday evening, and I forgot to add the damn directions. As I whined about a bathroom light/fan, uninstall/install, and got a sharp object in my eye for a good twenty minutes, tough even then I whined about how no one seems to care about how their actions effect anyone else, and I'm tired of being alive ,and I don't see how my being alive has any fucking point at all.

At midnight, Keith payed me everything we agreed on; and despite my attitude, much more than we originally talked about had gotten done.

We went to Prairie Pub for drinks and darts after. I took the first three games, though Keith showed a bit of fire and I drifted back into a dark place. We ended up tied 4-4. In the ninth game, the bartender took my beer and I focused again: 5-4, in my favor. On the way home we wandered around St. Paul as Keith grilled me on my anger against corporations. He calls my arguments contrived; I argued as I always do with him, weakly against a thing I'm not really against, a thing I'm only suspicious of because of the power that's gained in numbers, and the myriad ways that power leads with violence.

He found my house. I unloaded the bike he gave me, assuring him I had a fun time, as I always do with Keith. Inside, I prowled around the house, imagining undoing every thing, tearing it all down, being done with it. A curious jupitorious geminiouness, foretold in the cards. My right side tense, full of pain and restriction, my left at ease, weaker but more flexible. I collapsed in the corner, tears in my eyes, raging.

A corporation is a co-operation between many, because many are stronger than any one alone. In this age, the pre-eminent co-operation is between those who practice the most extreme hierarchy, with those at the peak of that hierarchy gaining the most, to an extreme degree. All within the modern co-operation gaining more than most. Which is a kind of tyranny. All wealth is of the whole. What are we to do with our portion?

And there, as always, my conundrum, my refusal to force anyone to do anything, with whatever portion they feel themselves entitled to.

It's now five am, and my fury is waning. I've been going to bed early lately. This is what comes of my participation in the world. It is not always this furious.

Must focus. LOL.

Sleep. Dream.