Life and Death in America

 My old friend came by two days ago.  I hadn't seen her in a couple of months.

She doesn't answer her phone much either.  I wanted my spare set of keys back.   They're useless with her since she hasn't reliably answered her phone in years.

I admire that, really.   

But its no good behavior for a spare key holder.

She looked so darn old when she came.  She's skinnier than ever, can barely walk and her hands turn blue just suddenly.  Then I thought, "why do I think that's odd.  She's nearly 80 years old."

She did not come in and stayed only moments.

After she left, I felt terribly mortal.  I know she won't be around much longer and that is visibly apparent.  I think how short life is and how little time I have left on earth to do what I'd like to do.   

Her kids long ago grew up and left home and had kids of their own.  Two are divorced now.  How time flies.

Another mass shooting, or two, in America.  Both young males who got the guns right before they became mass murderers.  Both should spare us the drawn out trials and trauma and kill themselves.  They're both fricking cowards, to kill so many then be taken alive by police which probably would not have happened had they been black, to be bluntly honest.

What is with angry young disaffected males in this country.  Their solution of choice, in many cases, seems to be violence of some kind, even mass murder.

Human garbage.  I guess I understand it.   I watch the young male cats navigate their world as they grow up and change.  They smell different as they mature into adults and begin to see other males as enemies.  Some are athletic and large and do well in fights against the bigger badder boys.  Some develop incredible bluffing skills, which do them better than fight skills.  Some find other ways to compete for sex, and become romeos that all the females adore and maybe even are liked by the big bad boys.  But others are clueless and try to hide out or are beat up so badly they die, in terrible fights.

The two boys still unfixed at the wheelchair man's place are brothers, a little over a year old, who seem so awkward around one another.  They grew up as best buddies, relying on one another and suddenly now, they have urges to rip one another apart.  

Human males who can't make it or compete with other males now can go buy a big gun and be big and bad even if they are mentally or physically weak.  Its so easy.  Too easy.

I'm headed out to trap this morning, back to the junk shop, where I'll be lucky to catch one of the two or three left unfixed there, in hours.   I'm not optimistic but I have to try.

Today is another day.