various notebook jottings
It takes a lot to supervise me.
In my suburb there are two flocks of wild turkeys gobbling around town. They remind me of my wife looking for the car keys.
My mother died before I finished with my dead father issues, not to mention my feelings on their divorce 60 years ago. Now I’m fucked. Do you ever wonder if this dimension, this realm of existence, might just be the lowest realm of them all? Hell. Maybe this was my parents’ evil plan all along, to have everything across 70 years of living run my psyche through a veg-o-matic and then I find out this creation is hell.
The administration skins one free-thinker a day as a sacrifice to their great God, Moloch, so that the blood money keeps rolling in. And free thinkers? There’s always more where they came from. Then the sacrificial victim screams and blood fills the drains of the church-banks. In this way the cult continues.
In the administration’s church-bank the parishioners chant:
worship the dollar
worship the gold
worship the power
that we alone hold
This has gone for so long now that the cobbles on the streets of the old marketplace stink of death and poverty. Hope has slipped down the drain with the blood, and you had better bow when the wealthy walk by. There’s more where you came from.
One hundred degrees here in the Sacramento Valley today. Toasty. I held up the leash and asked my dog if she wanted to take a walk. She sat down and gave me the same look that my wife often does, “Are you outta your fucking mind?” Maybe you know the look, too. I think it’s likely that my wife taught the dog how to do the same stinkeye. It takes a lot to supervise me, one person just isn’t enough.
Sing me up a soup of lentils and truth, in a bone broth. I’m so hungry and tired of lies. This much I know; the lies might taste better, but truth is better for you. So sing up a soup of lentils and truth, and don’t forget the carrots and celery.
by James Lee Jobe
22 JUNE 2026
