heartbreak feelings

once upon a time
i was recently divorced
and i thought i’d be ok with it
but i took it very hard
discovering latent emotions
i didn’t know i had

at my lowest moment
my children and i discovered a kitten
half buried in the snow
nearly chilled frozen
by the prairie blizzard gales

we took him in
i wrote about this once, “feline explanatory”
it’s in stoneskrit
i really should make that available to you
someday soon..

anyways this cat lived 14 years
if cats have 7* lives
i guess that made him 98 in cat years
he was my very best friend
got me through some super tough times
he always loved me
and made my heart glad

long story short
he developed an incurable illness
i nursed him along as long as i could
vet bills be damned
and when the vet bills got too high
and the vet doctor expressed doubts
i took matters into my own hands
practiced my hippie-dippie bullshit
and extended my friend’s life
a couple of extra weeks

it was a rough end though
he had a stroke, paralysis
dragging his back legs around
mewling, crying
choking up blood
tongue stuck out in some death pose
squirming around on the cold tile floor
panting as he clung to life
and i had to make the ultimate decision
to give him the long sleep
as much as i loved him
i had to let him go
it was the humane thing to do

an odd synchronicity expressed itself
i was enraged
i was heartbroken
i was astonished
i was calm

appointments for an important life exam
and for the time of injection death
were the exact same time

i missed watching the life pass his eyes
my daughters were there
they said he looked relieved, thankful

i dug a grave
in the pouring rain
hammering past ancient rocks and roots
gouging out his final physical home
we all cried as we dropped his body in
as i piled the dirt back on top
as i rolled up the heavy stones
as i decorated his grave
with a piece of arcane driftwood

he would have liked it there
he used to sit on that flat rock in the sunshine
flicking his tail with exaggerated disinterest

i’m going to miss him
that furry friend fellow
safe travels, buddy
hope i see you again someday
past that velvet black
content within the golden bright

Peach Preserves

This full length tutorial walks you through how to can peach preserves in salvaged jars like a pro!

Learn about common pitfalls, how to avoid mistakes, and how to create delicious canned peaches that your family and friends will enjoy!

Some of the topics that are covered include:

How to set up your canner boiler.
How to salvage reusable jars.
How to sterilize your jars and working area.
How to get the skins off of peaches quickly and easily.
How to slice your peaches.
How to pre-stew your peaches with honey for best canning results.
How to get your stewed peaches into the jars without making a mess!
How to prep your canning lids.
How to put the lids onto your jars with metal band rings.
How to get your jars of peaches into the canner boiler.
How to prevent your jars from exploding, shattering, and breaking.
How to use your canner boiler for best results.
How to get your piping hot jars out of the canner boiler!
How to cool your jars.
How to test your jars for good seals.
How to get a good seal on your jars every time!
How to label and store your jars of canned peaches.

There’s also some bonus footage in this tutorial where I show you my active compost, garden, and peach saplings that have grown out of peach pits I’ve saved in past years.

If you ever wondered how to successfully can your own peaches, and get great tasting peaches with perfect seals, you must watch this video!

momentia

oh how i wished
my father still knew me
hidden behind a glass darkly
voice scratchy over a bad telephone line
loaded up with psychotic drugs
to make him easier for the nurses the handle

wind whips the leafy branches
swaying violently
eardrums vibrate
with the thick bass of a passing car
people murmur
behind their darkened windows
cats slink
chasing shadows down the alleyway

the diamond cutter draws another line
but there are no diamonds
there are no cutters
there is no drawing
there is no another
there are no lines
this is why they are named
diamonds, cutters, drawing, another, and lines

what is meant by this repeating curiosity?
what is up with this diamond cutter business?
how can you say there is something
then turn around and say there is not that something?

here is the diamond cutter mystery explained:

thoughts are objects of the mind
they arise there
they dwell there
they circulate there
they die there
they are resurrected there
and another time they swirl there
yet
thoughts are not real
thoughts are code
running in the wetware of your mind
when you were a baby
you had no words yet
words were programs
injected into your mind
when you were a small child
you had no judgements yet
judgements were programs
inflicted on your mind
when you were a young person
you had no money yet
money was a desired object
impressed upon your mind

but there are no words
there are no programs
there are no minds
there are no judgements
there is no money
there are no desired objects

this is why they are named
words, programs, minds, judgements, money, and desired objects

do you see?
can you understand?

thoughts are illusions
some programmed very early, and some later
the diamond cutter exposes these illusions
by calling them out
then assigning them their negatives
their antidotes
their non-thoughts
for there are no thoughts
this is why they are named thoughts

any of the ten thousand things
that can be named
are illusions
mind viruses
stealing your mental processing power

if you have a recurring thought
some endless soundtrack in your mind
some emotional pattern
that gets you thinking the same thing
over and over and over again

let it go
dissolve it into silence
let it sizzle into the great clear hot
the all and nothing icy void
and witness for yourself
ascendant tranquility

only when the mind is stilled
can wisdom and understanding arise


the find — part V

i looked more closely at the backpack
it was standard size
grey, faux leather trim
with an extra pocket secured with a zipper

and i paused
for a filthy, tailor-made cigarette
sucked in those horrific
juicy vapours
as i wondered
what was in this secreted backpack pocket?

and i felt the gravity
gravity, gravity
g = 9.8m/s^2
(on this planet, for now..)
brakes slamming on a childhood car
body pulled towards the windshield
ac/de/celerration as gravity analogue
meteorites burning cloudlines to blue noctilucent
aether
sluicing inward, downward
feeding the hungry atoms of mass
clustered into a planet
an invisible eternal waterfall
raining from the sky
gravity

i shook my head
who knows what gravity is?

i unzipped the side pocket
of the mystery backpack
and my eyes widened
at what i saw there

a pencil, like mine
astounding!
who uses pencils anymore?

a surgical scalpel
blade jiggly
half unscrewed from its mount
glinting dimly off the cloudy sunlight

a 2$ coin of the realm

a curious wood carving
circular
hole drilled through the centre
and 10x holes drilled laterally
but not clear through to the middle
it reminded me of a “tinkertoy” from my youth
but more rugged
and 10x instead of 8x holes
the palm of my hand felt stranger
the longer i held it

there was more besides
but i am going to end this story now

after attempting to locate this particular individual
from the wallet ID in the side pocket
i surrendered the backpack and its contents
to the local police
and i hoped
this lovely derelict and his effects
would soon be re-united

and i also contemplated hope
and the uselessness thereof
and i smiled anyways

the find — part IV

pulsing modern technos
writhed within our minds
but there were no minds
this is why they are named minds

what’s in the backpack?!
tell us please!!

the top was already open
exposed to the elements

on top was a pair of hiking boots
bottoms scuffed a rusty orange
the filthy smudge of a railroad wanderer
sand clinging to the soles
the boots were wet, damp with water
was it recent?
but it had been raining for days
still, maybe.. one.. two days’ old?

under the mysterious boots
was a black t-shirt
clumped into a loose ball of fabrics
i pulled the shirt out of the backpack
and observed it was caked
with damp muds and sands
with a quick
..>SNAP!<..
i shook the shirt out
to cleanse its earthy contaminants

and the chipmunk
startled at the sudden motion and sound
vanished from view
a slight waver in the aires stilled over that rock
where the chipmunk had been just moments before

i grinned
i chuckled
i noticed the t-shirt was inside-out

the contents of the shirt were racy
sexual in nature
i’m going to spare you the details

and at the bottom of the backpack
was a collection of cans:
coconut water, orange juice, a single beer,
and an empty coffee cup
and i was puzzled because
this was not the abandoned backpack of an alcoholic

the find – part III

i looked about
but there was no one
no hobo
asleep upon the beach
no hiker
along that desolate path
no body
floating face down in the lake
no campsite
of some homeless saint
just the backpack
that wasn’t there last week
and i trembled
along with my chipmunk friend
at something new under the sun