Sunday 9 Pm

When younger, less afraid of dying. Even now, less afraid of dying than fearful I am already too dead for fully functional resuscitation. Maybe it’s just another Sunday 9 PM, last dregs of responsible weekend parenting, trying to remember, then forget, why I thought parenting would be good for my spiritual life, unlike eremitic vows or even celibacy. No, not for me such traditional socio-pathologies, our generation will become eco-mentors of polycultural healthy cooperativity! What an exhausting idea, swollen with multisystemic mediocrity, sad happiness of merry despair, meeting alien teenagers, shape-shifting into truly terrifying young adults, half way between my eternally wise ZenZero bicameral ecoconsciousness and their wildness, their unreformed perfect creepiness stretching my boundaries of reasonable life expectations. I’m far less afraid of dying than I fear their fading away without me to remind them each and all of how utterly exhausting we are together. Another Sunday 9 PM remembering to forget my spirited natural life if only until 6 AM.