Last words

July 30, 1997, Wednesday

[. . .]

Atom bomb is the ultimate soul killer, that vaporizes all debts as it vaporized the steel tower at Alamogordo, New Mexico.
(Fat soul.)
“Our vegetable love will grow, vaster than empires and more slow.”
No idea where or why that quote came from. Know the whole poem, of course, brain littered up with old bits and pieces.
“Pieces of eight!” screamed the parrot.
Wouldn’t you, if you were a parrot had learned how?
Felicity [Mason], describing me to someone holding tickets I needed:
“When you see someone who looks like the saddest man in the world, that’s him.”
How can a man who sees and feels be other than sad.
To see Ginger always older and weaker.
The price of immortality, of course.
Well, you should have thought of these things.
I did. Thinking is not enough.
Nothing is. There is no final enough of wisdom, experience – any fucking thing. No Holy Grail, No Final Satori, no final solution. Just conflict.
Only thing can resolve conflict is love, like I felt for Fletch and Ruski, Spooner and Calico. Pure love.
What I feel for my cats present and past.

Love? What is It?
Most natural painkiller what there is.
LOVE.

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