Another book. in A small but passable life.

I finished reading “America at War with Itself” by Henry A. Giroux.

“We are already living amongst the ruins of the future.” -Henry A. Giroux

I actually went out for a walk yesterday to the library to return the book.

I’m not even going to try to debate Dipshit Drumpf supporters. Eight years of trying to reason with Gee Dubya fanatics was enough for me.

“You can’t argue with stupid.” -Ron White

The youngsters are busy filling out passport applications. They also told me that they are engaged. Finally, after what, five years together? Hooray for them! All good. All good.

Mom has made it on her own for nine months this time, so far. I’m hoping for another four months at least. I’d like to stay right here for the next four months, until the lease is up, until I have to decide where to go next.

The ideal would be a campsite in the Mark Twain National Forest a county or two over. If I can find a suitable spot, preferably within an hours’ walk of a small town with a grocery store and a public library, I could make that work. Going to the desert (to Mom’s) on June 1st would not be ideal, but that is also an option. The third option is to just wander around homeless in the city here. I’ve thought some on that third option and I believe I’ve come up with a few good ideas for the hours between midnight and dawn. In other words, where to sleep. I believe the trick is to be creative. I remember all the crazy places Johnny used to find and tell me about. My favorite was the front porch of an older house up for sale. How perfect that seems. Out of the rain, up off the ground, and out of the wind somewhat. That to me sounded more appealing than the empty shed or garage.

Anyway, all those choices are still months away.

In the meantime I’ll just sit right here with the next book to read.