you got it all

I signed my contract today.  Sigh.  I looked at an investment company on line.  Retirement plans for 2030.  Holy cow, this sucks.  I can't imagine being that old.  And it isn't about being alone at that age.  It's just being old.  I feel duped.  Throughout the Catholic liturgy there's this blessed hope, the holy expectant receiving the second coming and taking us, even those who don't think like us but whose hearts are right freaking on, to a better life.  But really, the apostles thought he'd return while they were alive.  And by the time the 12th century smoldered along and the writers of the second half of the Hail Mary penned their lucid addition, they didn't believe they'd be singing Maranatha either.  Neither did Francis of Assisi. 

Hail Mary
Full of Grace
The Lord is with Thee
Blessed art thou among women
and Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus
Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners
Now and at the time of our death.

At the time of our death?  Yes, Johnny boy, we're all gonna eat the grass.  The Tibetan Buddhists were right, humanity has to suck it up for long long time, meanwhile we suffer, oy we suffer.  Look at the islands around Cebu.  Such is great faith there, and ya know while we're here I get real tired of any Americans, mostly tea party Republicans and their wanking apocalyptic gibberish.  As if the US had a direct influence in matters that occurred on the other side of the planet 1700 years before we ever ate sliced cranberry jelly.

Last week I went to Muscat for a day and it took at least a week for my neck and shoulders to feel better again.  Taking an uncomfortable bus was only endured with Leon Uris and the rosary.  Speaking of the rosary is it still effective if you say the prayers out of order?  I think it is, too.  It's all about the intention, right? 

So now another week ends.  Tomorrow I'll wash my meager clothes, grateful I have meager clothes to wash. Last night I picked up four shirts and trousers from the laundry service and the collar of my striped Lands End dress shirt was completely shredded.  That wouldn't have happened if I washed it in the sink, dude.  I'll read the Int'l NYT and the Guardian Weekly newspapers I bought last week, maybe we'll see a little tv, maybe we'll sleep a little longer, and smoke fewer cigarettes.  Next week I will look at getting a driver's license and then will look at renting a car.  We have a four day weekend at the end of the month and I consider getting a laptop.  I don't wish to bring work home, but what if by God's unselfish act of dominion-hood I were inspired to put together what I've written and do something with it.  Inspiration fades fast here, like the smell of clean socks. 

Finally I remember my favorite dancer, growing up on the big candy mountain.  I miss the kid and her family, such clean air, such heavenly views.  On countless occasions I told Maya how rich she was, with family, with a home, a business. I am not rich, I implored, without family I am poor, poorer than you ever will.  For in such riches are those who you love and love you in return.  You got it all.