The Down Cycle

“What you don’t know how to make boy babies?”, asks a Serbian friend.

“I probably do, but what’s the point.”

He goes on to talk about some country where they consider girl babies worthless, and by the time he completes the “lazy mule” description it’s hard to tell who’s opinion he’s describing. Fact is we probably don’t fuck often enough to make boys. Sometimes it’s a mystery and sometimes a riddle. Fuck.

Typical Monday, and the last day of the waning moon. A new bee sting and they’re beginning to cause not subtle swelling and itchiness. Email reply regarding potential employment came in today: “Thank you, but we’re not going to do this now.”

What do you do when you’re broke and there’s no obvious income-producing activity? Write poetry of course. Fix broken shit around the house.

Speaking of bad days, this good friend tells me his diabetic wife is probably going to lose her foot. She already lost two toes in the last few months and can’t seem to quit smoking. Vascular surgeon told them the plaque he scrapes out of smoker’s veins smells like cigarette butts. Apparently she’s also been snorting bath salts and there is amphetamines and opiates in her system.

On the other side, our neighbor’s husband of ten years cheated on her, threw their ten year old across the room and left with food money and the good truck. Three kids - a rape baby, a boy and a whoops. They have no food in the house. Move into the ghetto and you’re feeding the tenants of slum lords.