Nolo Contendere...I do not wish to contend

It's a 100 degree plus early Friday afternoon, listening to Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks" and having a light lunch of Saltines and black cherry soda and watching Juliet trash yet another catnip mouse and roll around on the oriental in the kitchen. The past ten days or so have mostly been spent laying on my bed watching the fan go round under the dim red light with towels shoved in any cracks between the blinds and window frames. A lot of sweat, a lot of regret, not much use for fear anymore...it serves no purpose...not much left to be afraid of anyway. There was a double murder earlier this week four doors down and when the ghettobird illuminated my bedroom in the middle of the night I simply rolled over and put a pillow over my face...Nolo Contendere...Nolo Contendere...