502. Ziggy’s Diary: 30

It’s no good. I can’t meditate, can’t sing, can’t even sit still. I’ve tried to call twice more. Two more times, “She’s asleep.”

They’re not even very good liars. If they were, they’d vary the story. I fear the worst and I can do nothing but obsess over it. This is the worst possible thing for all the learning I’ve done. But this is my mother we’re talking about. This isn’t about learning to let go of suffering. My own suffering is one thing. The fact that my mother may be in a diabetic coma or something is different.

I called Carynne and got her answering service and was told she’s out of the country. Out of the country! What! Outrageous. Yes, I know. I’m the one who started that trend. I am not allowed to complain about it. I didn’t leave a message.

I tried to call Digger and was told he’s in the hospital. What the fuck is going on over there in the United States? Did I leave and everything immediately fall apart? Or did it take a few months?


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