MI CASA ES TU CASA
Let’s work on this together.
It’s so easy to forget… like looking at the ball when you’re swinging at it…
But we’re in this together, baby, whether you’re down with it or not. I suggest that we make the best of it with the materials at hand. Right?
I’m not at all one of the oft-talked-about Western World’s ‘1%’, but I do fall in somewhere in the top 20. Not for cash, understand, but for sheer blind good fortune: I was born in Canada. I have great friends, and, although I wasn’t allowed to choose them, I have great family too.
If that doesn’t put me in that ‘Western One Percent’, it certainly does if we are gonna go worldwide. And that’s where we need to go.
Losing my leg was a pain in the ass but my daughter says it made me a better person. I don’t know about all that (I think I was Okay before, though I might have been a bit sassy).
I do know that, in the aftermath of losing my leg… and prolly before that, well, I was dissolute and casting around. I’m not anymore. I mean, I’m dissolute, but I’m no longer casting around. Baby steps.
I writhed to the bad beat of Phantom Pain for fully 5 years, then, with the mirror, I pretty much cured myself in 5 weeks. Then I sat on it, like a brood hen on an egg, for 4 or 5 years more. I move slow. I cleave to glaciers. I don’t think clearly but I think hard.
So, ‘Me and My Mirror’ was born in Peter and Judy’s basement 3 years ago and it’s the best thing I ever did. It should be clear to all but the most doltish that I do this for me… too. It helps to help because life is fuckin hard and we all live in the same house and all. Andso a body may as well chip in for the laundry from time to time, right? If all else fails than just Work Hard and Be Nice. It’s easy to forget that too.
We owe all these things to each other.
We’re brothers and sisters, we’re not comrades; you’re not my tovarich… you’re my roomie. Chances are I don’t believe in your God, but I don’t see why we can’t hi-five allthesame, or at least ‘knucks’.
In closing (for now), please take a sec and dig the following from Louis de Bernieres’s ‘The War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts’ (a smoking read BTW) :
‘There was once a painter who travelled the cordillera in order to paint an invisible picture of Christ. When he had finished, the local Indians scrambled up the rocks to examine it and found that it was in fact a picture of Viracocha. A Chinaman passing by went up t see what was causing so much excitement and found to his surprise that on the rock was a picture of The Buddha. The painter stuck to his assertion that it was Christ who was invisibly portrayed and a loud and rancorous argument developed. In the midst of the altercation, one of the Indians noticed that the portrait had erased itself.’
Just freshening up the walls inside of his house… tu casa. Git some. Warmly,s