The Bedrock

Eight fifty.

Polly went so far as to intimate that our brother had unnecessary surgeries done in order to get the pain medications. I just don’t want to know what she thinks anymore. It doesn’t sound likely to me that Jeff would do such a thing. The accusation is so egregious that I don’t believe it… I guess I’m just sick of hearing from her, and the conversation about Jeff pushed me over the edge. That’s the real situation. The fact is that I really love my brother, no matter what he does. Maybe love is blind and unreasoning. He joked to me that he could’ve invented the “reverse nuclear bomb” with his intellect, but he valued getting high more than his brains, or helping humanity. He didn’t love himself and he chose self destruction. My opinion is that he lives with a terrible burden of guilt feelings regarding his first wife. There’s nothing I can do to help, because I’m just a pariah on the fringe of the family anyway. No one gives a damn what I have to say. I’m just “crazy.”

Quarter of ten.

The bedrock for it all is love, and love simply loves what it loves. My mother and my brother were always my favorite relatives even though they didn’t like each other. An old song, “Requiem for the Masses,” comes to mind:

Black and white were the pictures that recorded him

Black and white was the newsprint he was mentioned in

Black and white was the question that so bothered him

He never asked, he was taught not to ask

But was on his lips as they buried him


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