Page One hundred

… come to the fair…     from an old song in an old musical

Wednesday 15 September 2010         Turners twisting

Franklin County, the epicenter in Massachusetts of ignorance, mean-spiritedness, and alchoholism, has just had its annual coounty fair. September 9-12. I was not in attendance. There are no more fairs for me.

But I did go to the fair in 2008, the year my life was surgically excised from me, while I was still waiting around for Matthew’s people to locate me somewhere. It was a big mistake.

The fair was lousy, and it becomes moreso every year. Less and less like a county fair, and more and more and more like a trade fair.

And some of Matthew’s people were there, dogging my every step.

And I was dogged also by memories of me and the fair in the days of my own life. Going there with my daughter, or both my mother and my daughter, or a friend. And always setting off from a real apartment with my animals and my belongings inside, saying goodbye, and saying hello to it all again when I returned. Not knowing a damned thing about what my dead grandfather had been and how he had really died. Absent of mobs, feds and other psychopathic clubs. A 55-year way of life that’s gone, robbed away by inexcusable, irredeemable people.

No more fairs for me. Stloen along with the animals, like many other parts of who I was.

This is my 100th post on the braonwandering blog. Imagine that…..  website

(marshmallow man at www.whatonearthcatalog.com)


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