The other side of the coin.

I brought about me tv shows, books and movies.  Sugar and caffeine.  Pork fat.

There was a second-hand beanbag chair.  I sat in it, dollar cookies in whole milk, and I watched Steve Austin.

I had done my labor, and then I enjoyed my rest.  It would always seem sometimes that either the rest wasn't enough, and times the rest was enough, it seemed the money wasn't enough.

I had watched the mists descend from the sky--I even watched two skyscrapers descend from the sky.  In all the heavens, the firmament vibrated with a certain something(or was it an uncertain something), as of a singular organism, the whole thing combined, celestial dimensional strings between them, filaments and information circuits, things alive and things that just moved about like automata.

It seemed stated, to spend it all as it came in.  There was always something, and if something wasn't readily in mind, they would find something for the purchasing.  It seemed so often that we didn't pay a tithe to a church, or donate to charity, but give a portion of our income to the very concept of barbecue, or a certain run-down retail store; these were our charities, but I persisted that they were not our reason de'tre, not ecumenical institutions.