Prognosticatory Anxiety...... In August of 2005......... On April 4, 2009 he died of heart disease.........

Aug,  19, 2005....from correspondence:      Steven called this afternoon.  After drug dosage changes, his heart is beating normally.  His heart is so good---I wish it were more perfectly formed.    I will see Steven tomorrow, as usual.  Maybe some macrobiotic food this weekend with no caffeine, nicotine or quarts of milk or gallons of vanilla iced cream 'here' for him......

I've spoken with Steven a dozen times.  He sounds almost Blaise' about his arrhythmia--what stamina to endure days of 150bpm!  I would be dead.  Hopefully,  the body mechanics in Floyd County will, again, make temporizing  reparations.  Feeling really emotional about all this and the countless other issues about me, I'm trying to avoid tailspin and fragmentation--

if that is possible.  Yet, particles of truth shower on my illusions.  

addendum:   Later, when Steven came by to spend the weekend with me, I mentioned to him that he should, perhaps, give up some of his 'bad habits'....like 'marlboro man' smoking...which he had  lied to me about having 'quit'...which he lied to me about having 'lightened up rather than 'lighting up'"' and chain-pot-smoking....and  whiskey-drinking. ...He became agitated and angry, returned to his van and drove back to Adairsville......We did not speak again until a few days before his son Branton...then, my godson.....was to leave for England to attend the University of Manchester.........  After I agreed to pony up the funds to pay Branton's tuition and called my old friend, and Steven's, Bill Mello, who was now living in London, Steven showed up to fetch the money for the 'London Adventure'......which would, of course, compel him to work even more arduous hours, installing irrigation systems for KES Misting......to get out from under constant financial strain.....So..no rest for the weary!........     On April 4, 2009, Steven died!    Afterwards, the death spiral of my relationship with his widow and son led to a vortex of guilt and shame....a Black Hole, into which all my connections to Steven's wife, son and sister were sucked into oblivion........   Even now, in 2019.....there has been no resolution, as I am the only person who wants to resolve any of this anxiety......So....it persists, since alleviation and consolation take more than words on a condolence card or standing, sadly, in black, at a gravesite.....So often, the wake of a Storm is anger....that demolished what was left in the aftermath....The carpet of Life on skeleton underpinnings is bumpy with the underlying detritus of denial and rationalization.    

The Last Attempt at Emotional Correspondence........To No Reply....

 i was just watching the "dance" scene from a film adaptation of an 18th C. Novel.   ....... the conversation is both polite and telling...... direct, yet distant.... another time, in which i would be more comfortable....... and you, i think.... i am such an obsolete device of nature......and, frustrated, cast aspersions to the deaf and the blind, who, diverted by simpler conceits, beg the answers in the questions.......fallal reason insuring the needed delusions.....i have lost your parents.....soon, they will be quite distant.....must life be such a catered affair, with each guest bringing the old, dead arrangements from ancient parties? sigh! i hope that you and i do not drift apart, as we have not yet established a foundation that would support the types of relationship that either of us would prefer......a tip of the hat is for passerbys on the boulevards of civilized society......i prefer a telling glance, forever renewed by change of course and the redirection of dreams by the truths of Life..... as maddening as this way of life can be... sometimes i am Shelly's Prometheus, drifting into the endless enigma of this temporal jungle; yet, in a second, and for one, i see the all that is and nothing more.....i have my eyes wide open, though somewhat near-sighted by age; my ears tuned to the timbre of voice, yet listening to the lark's calling and the titmouse in the berry bush...... the great, voracious birds circle, eying my stumbling, and still i tip-toe across the River on stones left by those who went before........instructions, written on the wind, blow 'bout the world of dreaming and i awaken where i was before the world changed.....i've lost the sextant and must travel by intuition.........i've heard tell of a golden compass......... the magic stones, lost in the pool of an ancient waterfall..... the maps hidden in an uncharted desert........of gods in the clouds, on mountains and far away.........but, i was told in a dream from who knows where......that all we need to know is embedded within the helix changed with countless mix..........today, the sunlight draws the crocus and hyacinth into the cool air, then the cactus blooms of summer, the musty autumn and then the frozen realms beyond, from which the breath of tomorrow emerges.......