Letter to Brostein Vol.1 Number 83
01/31/00
Brostein,
The madness of the world continues. The Y2K thing was a joke but everyone was still worried; a few years from now, who knows; a bombing, a depression? People were hording food; always hording food first; then shoot your neighbor cause he didn’t prepare; breaking into your house to get some rice or maybe rice cakes. The millennium for me was a mellow evening. I walked the dog on the strand and watched everyone go nuts. I’ve never seen so many cops on Pier Avenue. Blue got spooked by the fire works so we went home.
I watched a plane dive into the ocean tonight. I was out on the boat; a rather clear night. The winds were light out of the south and it was a perfect 65 degrees outside. It shot down in a flash and at first; I thought it was a meteor. My radio confirmed the sighting, and it seems to have gone down near Ventura. I’m sure all are dead, or most. I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Of course, this brings me to my story, always a story. I haven’t had a drink in four years now and found myself becoming angrier and angrier with god. Fred was right when he wrote, “god is dead.” Without a doubt, the most misunderstood quote, quite possibly, ever. But what of my idea of god; Is my idea dead? what is it that I really believe? If god is indeed perfection, how can perfection conceive of imperfection? Everything dies, nothing is eternal. Ah yass, the spirit, but what of the rest; is it even real? Perhaps the Buddhist illusion and doctrine of compassion is missing an ingredient. Could it be that Yeshua’s dogma of forgiveness is that missing piece? Could it be that the illusion itself is what must be forgiven? I become lost with the possibilities.
Whatever it is, I found myself slowly filling with an unspeakable rage. I took the boat out and Blue found her spot down below. I threw out my anchor a mile out and began fuming at the world and all the misperceptions I have about it. I blamed god for everything from a prolapsed rectum to starvation of the masses. I began screaming out loud to a god who I seriously doubted, had anything to do with this dualistic hell. I screamed; guttural, primal, anguished screams; demanding an answer, pleading for a sign of divine intervention; none came. I turned into a blazing ball of angst and fury, pulsating and gyrating toward an invisible source that I couldn’t reach or understand; but still wanting a symbol of the fool god anyway. I heaved and shouted for hours, a madman on the verge of complete breakdown. I’m not sure when I passed out, but the next morning found a warm morning sun and Blue licking my face. I opened my eyes to her snout two inchs away, a strange sight to wake up to. I sat up on the bow, scratched her behind the ears and looked around. The coast of South Bay looked peaceful and I suddenly felt hungry. I made some coffee, lit a smoke, pulled up anchor and headed back in.
I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but I’ve felt quite at peace for several days. I wander around the beach with Blue, paddle out, catch waves, eat at The Spot and sit around with a stupid peaceful look. It’s that same stupid peaceful look that I make fun of when I pass someone with that constant back lit look; devotes of Deep Packed What His Face. In truth, I hope it doesn’t last too long, I haven’t written a thing. I’m just too fucking happy and peaceful. If it keeps up, I’ll be writing about “The Lord” or even worse, rhymed couplets.
Bindo
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