Last night, after making love, outside smoking and the coyotes were getting close, I had my 1911 but after midnight it is too loud – we went inside. Listened to them get ever closer as we fell to sleep.
Now I am looking for a good varmint rifle – something in a .223 as I refuse to be eaten by an animal.
I don’t think of myself as a contradiction but as myself – unique as all people should be and alike as all humans are.
a Poet, Buddhist, gun lover, biker, romantic, cripple – these are not contradictions and I practice non-violence in balance to the gun I carry on my side.
Yesterday I got read a smallish version of the riot act by a very good friend for referring to myself as a cripple. He said he winces a bit every time I say it and that I need to find a better descriptor. Maybe he is right – certainly he is honest, intelligent and an excellent friend. It is that I feel crippled, I feel like a Quasimodo hanging from the bell tower yelling “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” – but I know that I am not a cripple but have been crippled – therein lies a a major difference. In terms of strength and size I am capable of being a monster, frightening to some who don’t know me and gentle and kind to those who do. The leg has been shortened and crippled, it has been cut and lives on in pain but when need be I still pick up and hold my seven year old to calm his fears, his tears and his to remind him that no matter how he grows – he is loved deeply and completely. I am not a cripple and as was pointed out by my friend – I would bust the chops of anyone who said so to my face – I have been disabled, but not defeated.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 