FFA

I say good morning to Ken and to my mother every morning during my Quiet Time.  Tell 'em that I love 'em.  I can clearly see their faces smiling back at me, mom kind of beatific, Kenner's features twisted in more of a smirk.  It has been fun to do.  I'm sure they can hear me.  I don't think that each individual can hear what I say to anyone else, though, and for this I'm glad.  I use some bad words sometimes.

I spoke to a friend in The Program this morning and he suggested writing a letter to each of them but I don't think I'm going to do that - I'm not sure that The Dead can read.  It would seem to be a redundant system on their part, overriding their ability to access all literature of all time simply by blinking their eyes or clearing their throats.  I wrote to both of them when they were alive which seemed to be the more practical thing to do for this trudging German.  Still, a good suggestion.  I might do it later after I've forgotten where it came from, choosing instead to make it my own idea.  I steal all the time.

I called my buddy because I continue to have this heightened state of anxiety flitting about my head.  It's all crap anxiety, worrying about things that don't normally merit a second glance or worrying with no clear target in sight.  Free-floating anxiety, or FFA.  I believe that this is my odd, angular way of grieving, a viable substitute for wailing and chest beating and much gnashing of the teeth.  ONE time it would be nice to do something right out of the book.

If the only interaction that I can come up with regarding my father is to make him uncomfortable about his behavior then I'm beginning to practice a total deferral of all actions whatsoever.  What kind of an asshole am I if all I do is judge someone else's behavior? Ken would be on my ass about that shit.  Every now and then I'm glad he can't pick up the phone - I hate being told to leave everyone else alone when I'm so sure I can fix everyone else's problems.