Friday, May 18, 2018
"Through sepia!
I see them, hardly bizarre but really
only Ward and June Cleaver, Ozzie
and Harriet etc.
Everyone’s family odd! blah blah you say, and our friends.”
“Well, my one brother…!” I attempted to start. He all but shouted me down.
“But MINE TRIBE into seriously seriously insane direction. Pathological, criminal even.”
“Give me hint.”
“No, you must pay.”
“How much?”
“Dollar is fine. Symbolic. You’re never
actually giving it. It stays like this forever.”
(As a collector of foreign currency, I have
already put the dollar in a plastic case. )
And only if you’re very sure!”
“You’re acting! Academy Award!”
“No. You’ll never ever be the same.”
So, he told me. Whereupon, Cleo
and Mark arrived.
We went bowling, I think.
After not sleeping, I walk a few hundred feet to an area where redevelopment has repeatedly failed.
Grandiosely called “The Desert.”
Bury the dollar in its case.
Labels: eccentricity, Family, pathology, ritual, symbolism, weirdness
