Tom clark being in time is a pink cloud over mount tam (stephen ratcliffe temporality) a quarter revolution peeing in a trump hotel 4 other gases in the atmosphere

The oddest thing about living on the Bolinas mesa, whether in the days when it was nowt but flimsy fishermen’s shacks, as was the case when we got there, or evidently now, when it seems a fair share of the world’s very richest folk have made that bit of Earth their private enclave (showing that perhaps the rich have SOME taste after all, to go along with the acquisitiveness), is that if you’re facing that mountain, every day when you get up it’s still there, proving decisively once more that you’re on the other side of it.

As for Israel and Gaza and the beach, and Kashmir, the local knowledge coming out of those places has none of the same familiar and endeared quality for me. But as I remain among the living, those are sites that remain of intense interest, for me, because until those sites are sorted, that is not by force but by some currently unknown light of justice, nobody anywhere can be complete, if they are human.

Living in this country at this point is a continual exercise in head-bowing helpless shame, for a useless old cripple comme moi. No longer able even to get in the way of traffic w/o being reduced to infantile helplessness. And next weekend the grand diplomatic triumph… hastened inauguration of the Embassy in Jerusalem. Wonderfully synchronised with the 70th commemoration of the creation of the state of Israel and the beginning of the forcible ejection of those from whose land (flesh) this new state was carved out, drop by drop. The whole passion play of the thing will be celebrated (that is, carefully ignored), seamlessly as it were (bumper to bumper), with a strangled curse, here on the freeway feeder, drowned out by the unceasing flow of vehicles speeding to and from the money.

"Useless old couple." Them’s fightin’ words. Hey, if I had an extra fifteen cents I’d take a flight out there & punch ya in the knows-it-all mister smartipants. Yr talkin’ ’bout Tom Clark & his Lady A. But I don’t have the cash so will move with my Lady A to our local "Berkley" a week from today and try to establish a beachhead across Woodward

Now k, I’m already in enough trouble without any hint or suggestion that the uselessness is a … what would the word be, "quality"?… that we two, Madame B and I, share as a couple. The woman of the house may not be Wonder Woman, but she’s still in the ballpark. If you look again you will note that, therefore, the verbage I employed was "useless cripple". Simple accuracy. Total wreck, stumbling blindly across mayhem intersection in the permitted 2 nanoseconds, complete stranger ladies from other continents stop their cars, get out to enquire whether I need… I don’t know what… emergency room??… Nah, hospitals are all closed or closing… while the not so complete and far less ladylike strangers from this continent step on the gas, trying to take me out… market forces, I get that… Crematorium you say? You can get me a deal?

Thanks for including "5.4" among the shocks and awes that precede it in this post . . . maybe brings in some strange sense of calm at the end of the horrors pictured above it. Does the fleeting moment of pink cloud above shadowed green ridge still exist (in such a world)? Not today it seems, nothing up there but fog and more fog . . .