AD.

WALKING ON THIN ICE

reading 10.3.2024 Coventry Library Cleveland Heights OH

Last Thursday’s readingr 10.3.2024
Coventry Library Cleveland Heights OH
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I sit in silence that is not silence
there’s a wavering hiss of tire on concrete
the far siren singing
clock ticks
unknown people in unknown places
murmuring unknown words in unknown song
baby dinosaur chirps from tree
unseen dog barks territory
more cars hiss wind and water
squirrel chitters
wind chimes
rooster crows for sun every eleven seconds
when it’s been up for hours
in rhythmic return of almost nothing

unsilent dance
moves here
moves there
a veil over its fate

I listen

~ ~ ~

The Sisyphus Effect

I tried to tell her
don’t get up
stay in bed
it’s a scam
another reality trick
they get you every time
first you wake up
then you sit up
step out of bed
and whammo
they got you
again
they make you do stuff
be things
go places
eat
defecate
take
fake
I told her
tried to warn her
but no
she’s up
doing yoga
making coffee
petting the cat
listening to Willie Nelson
caught again in the web of want
old debt new due
one more early worm demanding bird

~ ~ ~

Rant and Roll

Gimme that TV I.V.
for vain in vein insane
gimme booze, sex, gambling
highline fashion
low blows
gimme local lobotomy
drill my lobal monstrosities
gimme gone
gimme go
gimme fast cars in red glow
neon no ones run low
jazz jumped slow
gimme want and went and wan
night in sight of sun
anything to numb
this shit world dumb
to doom due profits sons
in never pure
ever slippin’ strip stream whirl
gimme never when
back then
Zen
but get me gone
I don’t belong
nor do
you

~ ~ ~

Zen Box

Kneeling on the floor
before the cat box
removing clayed clumps of piss
and dried shit
then smoothing the surface
I realize this is my Zen sand garden
the urine my sins against others
the shit my sins against myself
the baking soda confession and forgiveness
for past’s smell
so I start new day new
clean
free
knowing I’ll be on my knees again tomorrow
for same old shit

~ ~ ~

I take what sun I get
I give what cheer I got
life goes on
I got coffee
I got me
I got wife in kissing tree
the road not taken
I been taken
repeatedly

There’s lies below
more lies above
helping push of shaping glove
you got your gods
you got your not nods
you still have to pay the rent

Sitting in a parking lot
watching a man sitting in a car
driver door open
scratching betting cards
looking for money
finding little or none
doing it again
and again
going in coming out
more cards
grim face
doing it over an hour now
in for cards
out with cards
sad silence

I wish him well
must be serious to keep the prayer going

My god’s not meat
my god is the all of nothing
the knot of now

Never pray to meat
it rots

Where’s this edge?
You get to it and there’s another
there’s always another
another up or down
in or out
and they all want rent

If not rent, respect
which is psychic rent

Here in workaway world
stress runs the mess
gets the killing done
fills the pantry
cooks the kitchen
preys on land run wrong

Stop and smell the roses
before they rot
and fall to the ground

They’re beautiful either way

~ ~ ~

Grease Your Grill

I’m an oven cleaner baby
Come to scrub your grill
Yes this oven loving man
Mean to steam your grill
Get the heat back baby
Flame and fire the thrill

I’ll rub your rust off lady
Get your grid to shine
Rid this mood of maybe baby
Lady let me lick your lime
Make much meat that might be
Moistened by munching lightly
Juicy, prime

Gonna grease your grill
Put the heat back baby
Then, send you the bill

~ ~ ~

A Crooked Man

There was a crooked man
not politician or banker
nor CEO or priest or moral shanker
(though all fine crooks in each their way)
but a simple guy with crooked sight
who thought fair meant fair
and right meant right
no matter how rich or big or tall
the same truths applied to all
if A were rule for man with penny
A must abide for man with many
if B is wrong for one with naught
it’s just as wrong for one with lots
as poor pay tax and serve and fight
so should rich add their might
and give to keep this going going
this very world they seem to be whoring
using lawyers politicians guns and money
not to mention TV and honey
to dull our minds to take our score
demanding we must pay far more
so wealth in growth can glow galore
they say less more than we deserve
think we’d be happy we’re not tempted
by all they buy with money exempted
and they’re probably right
in Zen light
for stuff is trouble
stuff takes space
stuff grows like fungus in dark dank place
stuff needs storage stuff needs safe
stuff sucks storer stuff takes place
stuff becomes bad bit breath
stuff stiffs stuff
stuff self-smit
so bet on tortoise
forget the hare
stuff is rigor mortis
stufflessness free air
winning is failing
failing success
oh the meek shall inherit
one hell of a mess

~ ~ ~

Dear Occupants, Accidents & Occidentals

Just yesterday it was yesterday
Now it’s already today

Confuse not mercy with weakness
Confuse weakness not with an upset liver
And confuse not an upset liver with love
It is the shape of the silence
Which defines the sound
Like winter rubbing against summer
Each refines the other

Only certain curtains can be drawn
The rest must be endured
The souring sermons
The centered self serving
The lion den Christians in Coliseum stands
Twixt ape and angel wandering
Torn between the knowledge
And the need

Do I worship the moon or sun
Or yet the blooded one?
I bloat and smell
Decay in age
The focus runs

~ ~ ~

Old dog wants
but doesn’t know what
so stands in existential angst
glancing at door
at kitchen
at me

I am an old man with an old dog
I don’t know either

~ ~ ~

Like the cicada
I sing my song
leave a husk

~ ~ ~

A little danger on the weekends
a little discipline for the workdays

Rounding underpass darkness
of Dead Man’s Curve dead car debris
into sudden full Cleveland sun
clouds jumbled majestically
wind temple turbines turning
bad coffee good grass
a long way to go
and right good to be going

Hey brother, can you spare a dead sparrow?
I’ve got an Armageddon to enforce

~ ~ ~

O yes

Mind monsters
cranium creatures
environmental viruses
survival of the fittest
sing hallelujah
ever onward in sorry sojourn

I dance between the shadows
suck what sun I can
watch women walk the harder path

Wife says she’s “the Zen in resentful”
while I keep pushing OFF buttons
in this ever-ON world

O let us pray
may the bad be better
and the good remain

~ ~ ~

Marriage Proposal

December of 68 I was lying on LSD on my bed downtown Baltimore.
Walls, floor, ceiling, doors all painted flat black.
Metallic mobiles and assorted assemblages hung from the ceiling
turning at will in low green and blue light.
My future wife walked in and sat so she could see me in the mirror.
So and so just got married she said.
That’s nice.
Silence.
Watch her reflection watching me.
So and somebody else also married.
More silence.
Watch her reflection evaluate my reflection’s reflection.
Even through the LSD I could see she wasn’t talking what she was saying
so asked.
I just want to know what’s going to happen she screams
stalking into the living room.
I lie there amid my hallucinations and resentfully realize
I’m too weak not to marry her.
Another’s strong needs always overrode my indifferent apprenticeship.
20 minutes later she skulks back to the bedroom.
OK I snap.
OK what? she snaps back.
We’ll get married.
When?
Six months I finalize
feeling sure the artist within will wither once reduced to marriage,
suburban boxes, the upperclass hypocrisy rampant in her family and friends.
We had a rich wedding in a high Episcopal-cum-Catholic cathedral.
Reception held of course at the country club.
None of my freak friends came.
The day of the wedding
I put all the trash left from moving in the middle of the floor
smoked the last of my grass
took off all my clothes
and slowly danced naked about the trash
sprinkling it with my box of monosodium glutamate
and chanting unknown chants of sorrow

~ ~ ~

August 2024 word harvest

August 2024 word harvest

2024.8.1 – I mean well
2024.8.1 – Just saw one leaf slow fall
2024.8.5 – Love as a drug
2024.8.5 – I have no choice
2024.8.6 – Sugar!
2024.8.7 – Days getting long
2024.8.7 – I ache, downright hurt
2024.8.10 – I have true tales
2024.8.10 – Call me Sisyphus
2024.8.12 – It’s said as fact
2024.8.13 – A little danger on the weekends
2024.8.16 – Digging through the night
2024.8.18 – And we’re off
2024.8.19 – Misha & Frankie
2024.8.21 – My well of wisdom runs dry
2024.8.21 – Found Poem Number None
2024.8.24 – Edge walking
2024.8.25 – Write your words in sand or stone
2024.8.25 – There are lifeforms
2024.8.27 – Some are never seen
2024.8.28 – There’s rough blood skin scrape
2024.8.28 – I push my rock up hill
2024.8.29 – Sisyphus and I worship
2024.8.30 – I see says man blind
2024.8.31 – Old dog wants

~ ~ ~

I mean well
but well has many meanings
of which I am one

A well is deep
dark
wet or dry

We wail
at the Welling Wall
against woe

My wall
may well
be wrong

Thy all
well may
be right

All in all
don’t fall
for the small

It don’t smell tight

~ ~ ~

Just saw one leaf slow fall
into sunlight and out again

Sun’s 4.6 billion years old
earth’s 4.5 billion
tree 30 years
leaf a few months
tbe shadows are ageless
I’m 78

What’re the odds?
me go fast in slow lane

~ ~ ~

Love as a drug
isn’t enough for her
she wants coffee too

~ ~ ~

I have no choice
there’s principles and there’s practicality
I won’t hurt myself just to hurt them

~ ~ ~

Sugar!
Caffeine!
Cannabis!
Cruising concrete
sharpening that edge
trying to outrun the end

We’ve met many times
various disguises
know each other well

~ ~ ~

Days getting long
brains getting short
election year

Flowers don’t last long
cacti stay awhile
I’m cactus

~ ~ ~

I ache, downright hurt
why should I get out of this chair?

others
service
need
duty
love
future
past
tomorrow
now

or else

~ ~ ~

I have true tales
tall and tender
tumbling me through time

Yesterdays are never gone
part leach into today
the rest stain tomorrow

What kind of flowers do we make
looping around on the interstate?

Rising sun
setting sun
same sun

Got one shoe on, ready to run

~ ~ ~

Call me Sisyphus
son of Sisyphus
son of son of son of Sisyphus

Sweat in hot bath
a discordant reality
of pains old and new
hard and softer
some going away
some not
sum knot
old man skin
blotches and blood
soon to be soothed in Moroccan argan oil

Walk naked from bath to wife
put fingers both sides foot long belly scar
and say solemnly
“I am two become one for you”

She lost it

~ ~ ~

It’s said as fact
Schrodinger’s cat knows it’s at
but just exactly where is that that?

In my box
horizontal feels good
after upright fight for day

Now night lilac dark, fragrant
as I seek mythical dragon
to soothe plight

Dead cat rotting, live cat well
which one falling, which one fell?

Who’s to tell?

~ ~ ~

A little danger on the weekends
a little discipline for the workdays

Rounding underpass darkness
of Dead Man’s Curve dead car debris
into sudden full Cleveland sun
clouds jumbled majestically
wind temple turbines turning
bad coffee good grass
a long way to go
and right good to be going

Hey brother, can you spare a dead sparrow?
I’ve got an Armageddon to enforce

~ ~ ~

Digging through the night
looking for the layers
needed for the light

Worm warm wonder
moist earth magic
penetration however slight

Greed got us here
and greed’ll get us killed
so sez want and will

Once the race was won
the finish line went wrong
preyed upon the dumb

And now we eat the eaten
beat our meat replete
seek new deals to sweeten

Don’t know much
but been around long
learned some of the song

Keep the worry
work the weary
sharpen wary way up high

~ ~ ~

And we’re off
pain taking the lead by a length
me hurting behind

I’m an angry man
in an old body breaking down
with a good heart
and a skeptical mind

I hurt myself
not on purpose
just hurt myself
cuz that’s the clump of clod I am
hurt myself
then hunker down to endure healing

I am Sisyphus I am rock I am hill

Me not smart monkey
but me not dumb
and me not only one

DNA
what a way
to play

The gaps between the ghosts getting smaller
ghosts of course getting oftener

~ ~ ~

Misha & Frankie

Her purr burble deep in throat
his more motor going

She black shadow 13 summer
he orange rip year’n’half old

She warm in snuggle
he blood for claw

She medium
he big

Her green eye tender, trusting
his alert yellow snake alien

She sweet silk seductress
he pure devil angle

She constant in comfort
he love and the terror

But she oh yes she
she was once as he

And so too can he
be as tender as she

~ ~ ~

My well of wisdom runs dry
my dry humor drips wet

Blue flowers growing in the green grass
small yellow flowers in the green grass

Old paper plate decomposing in the green grass
WTF is that in the green grass?!

Sunlight fades
as do I

All hail En
Tropy

~ ~ ~

Found Poem Number None

(Improv #1)
(Down A Dead End Street)
(When Jesus Takes Me Home)
(Woman’s Dance)
(It’s Love)
(I’m A)
(No More)
(Not Was)
(We Don’t Need This)
(You Need Meat)
(Peaceful Heart)
(Arabian Dance)
(Shelter In A Suitcase)
(Gurkaran Waraich)
(Black, Brown and White)
(Give Me Peace On Earth)
(He Gave Me Gasoline)
(Make Me Wanna Holler)
(Earthlings On Fire)
(Daddy Kill a Chicken)
(Woman Smarter)
(New Traditionalist Man)
(Body is the Scar of Your Mind)
(Hades Finds Out)
(I’ve Got Someone To Kill)
(A Deal With God)
(And Super Creeps)
(A Nocturnal Emission)
(Till You’re Not Happy)
(Don’t Don’t Do It)

[title frags from shuffle pool]

~ ~ ~

Edge walking
quite a costly way to go
but that one wave
where you walk on water
without even trying
way worth the broken bones
the torn flesh
the shredded heart
the shrunken ego

the air is fair up there

~ ~ ~

Go write your words in sand or stone
you still age and break
likely die alone

No matter who or what pulls the strings
God or plot naught before or after
you have to pay the rent

You’re born and washed in bowl
you die and are washed in bowl
it’s the dirt between that matters

You wanna play you gotta pay
you wanna pray you gotta pay
go or stay? – pay

Me, I’m making memories
to keep me moist
in the near hereafter

~ ~ ~

There are life forms
beneath us
around us
on us in us
above us
beyond us
we can’t see
or even fathom
life miles below sea surface
in darkness deep as a grifter’s heart
or life covered in miles of ice
colder than a preacher’s art
life is what life does to life
in self serving circle
eat to be am
die to be eaten to be am

I am what I am when I’m eaten
me myself the lie

~ ~ ~

Some are never seen
yet they pay the price
for this be that’s never been
which isn’t very nice

You can be whatever do
at least that’s what they say
but only through fluke of fool
or bending knee to they

There’re the they who own the streets
the they who run the lights
the they who take your treats
then double dare to fight

Let ’em kiss each others’ ass
as they serve their shilly shite
while they sneak faux pass
I seek sight

They’ll come back again
do their dirty twice
offer gain for pain
spin their just not nice

But we know better
been burned before
debt and debtor
unhealing sore

~ ~ ~

There’s rough blood skin scrape
And deep down bone pain
looks like I’m being me again

~ ~ ~

I push my rock up hill
watch as hill falls down

In empty want of will
I’m too stupid to go around

Dancing light distracts me
from my terror time

Shows a better be
a finer fine to find

I turn in search of lovely
leave lonely in the lurch

Seek some truths beyond me
weigh the man . . . and church

Both are judged and wanting
says the writing on the wall

Must be sort of daunting
God’s middle finger and all

Rock and hill and finger
keep messing up the page

But as long as my luck lingers
I’ll survive this culture cage

~ ~ ~

Sisyphus and I worship
at the cat box
we kneel
bow to clumped piss
and clayed shit
when done
we smooth the sand
with Zen
then
do it again
and again
and again

we are happy
we have a steady job

it reminds us of eternity

~ ~ ~

I see says man blind
from group meld mind

I hear says tin ear
it helps me cheat rhyme

I feel says faux real
hard heart unkind

Lizard brain sets bind
eat yr friend or help unwind?

~ ~ ~

Old dog wants
but doesn’t know what
so stands in existential angst
glancing at door
at kitchen
at me

I am an old man with an old dog
I don’t know either

~ ~ ~

July 2024 word harvest

July 2024 word harvest

2024.7.1 – Man it’s getting scary out there
2024.7.2 – All hail sacred lies
2024.7.8 – A lot of back-up beeps
2024.7.9 – The rising moon
2024.7.14 – The grazing of his ear
2024.7.16 – Trump’s ear is so bigly bandaged
2024.7.18 – All aboard for the Ying-Yang Express
2024.7.22 – I’m coffeed up
2024.7.23 – New rain
2024.7.24 – What’s done
2024.7.24 – Full ahead
2024.7.26 – Don The Con
2024.7.28 – I understand much
2024.7.29 – Had 5 teeth
2024.7.29 – There’s reverse
2024.7.30 – Starlight moonlight sunlight inner light
2024.7.30 – JD Vance does occasionally tell the truth
2024.7.30 – Great grapes go for wine
2024.7.31 – The lost lettuce and the lettuce gone
2024.7.31 – I learn of need and want

~ ~ ~

Man it’s getting scary out there
we got the Whore or the Or

We live in interesting times
says the corpse to the boot heel

~ ~ ~

All hail sacred lies
and the trials thereof

The basements borrowed
in ungentling of glove

There’s avenues to be followed
borders not crossed

So sez the boss
it just ain’t allowed

There’d be loss
and it’d be loud

Less its pound of flesh

~ ~ ~

A lot of back-up beeps
outside my window
the world is in repair

I’m getting better
but there’s a lot of better to get
almost caught up on yesterday’s dues

And the pules of flesh

Ever onward
thru pain
thru joy
thru gain
thru annoy
into am

There are no maybes without might

~ ~ ~

The rising moon
the setting sun
the shadows in-between

~ ~ ~

The grazing of his ear
and the raising of his fist triumphantly after
could be seen as pre-scripted . . .

much like Adolf’s Night of Broken Glass

~ ~ ~

Trump’s ear is so bigly bandaged
I can’t tell if it was a bullet
or a blood pact

~ ~ ~

All aboard for the Ying-Yang Express
what’s gonna happen is anybody’s guess

Some of it good, some of it bad
a few us having, most of us had

The hunt needs the hunted
the fear heeds the feast

The righteous are blunted
we feed the beast

If you’re living, something’s dead
you’re either bleeding or living on bled

I’m so sorry I sow so much dreary
I know we’re all quite weary of dread

Hence I still high hope on through the bleary
and keep recharging my head

~ ~ ~

I’m coffeed up
toking mellow
and cruising on concrete

There is hope

Drinking bad coffee
smoking good grass
the is of the is not

Blow by Temperance Exit 3
weed speed caffeine and concrete

Cuppa what?

Sometimes I turn on the radio noise
to stop the brain noise
sometimes to listen

I’m 2 shoe tied
trouble shoot shot
and ready to go

I bow to your deception

~ ~ ~

New rain
old dust
slippery slope

~ ~ ~

What’s done
what’s to do
endless

(thankfully)

~ ~ ~

Full ahead
far behind
here we go again

~ ~ ~

Don the Con
will soon be gone
his stench will linger longer

~ ~ ~

I understand much
but nowhere near enough
and I’m willing to go for less

~ ~ ~

Had 5 teeth
Broke 1/2 off
Now have 4 1/2 teeth

~ ~ ~

There’s reverse
and there’s perverse
why go backward?

~ ~ ~

Starlight moonlight sunlight inner light
stage light walking in and out

We lick our mirrors in fear
of wear and tear and tell all tales

Entropy inertia do it later let it fall
run away hide your head fund financial plan

Up breaks down
down’s deep is mushroom town

But what the heck we humans dreck
Earth will shake us from her shoulders

Like virus
like vermin

The trees will last new grass will grow
the seas and sky refill

Plastic atolls tall in water
once again will crawl with life

But right now is big crimes for big times
where money talks, principles walk

I think I wear my weary well
the Earth, however, is tired

Of us

~ ~ ~

JD Vance does occasionally tell the truth . . .

He called Trump “America’s Hitler”
“cultural heroin”
“a morally reprehensible human being”
“a disaster”
“a bad man”
and added
“some people who voted for Trump are racist
and they voted for him for racist reasons”

All valid statements

~ ~ ~

Great grapes go for wine
good grapes get eaten
the rest are raisin

Grapes and grains
roosters and trains
entwine in my brain

~ ~ ~

The lost lettuce and the lettuce gone

I’m a sun bunny
with no money
and lost bunny glow

Dying lighter
dirty pipe
low on weed

Not beaten
not bowed
just a wee bit bent

Call me sum body in sub-money flow

~ ~ ~

I learn of need and want
as large dog pulls on leash

But lesson’s larger

Watch morning sky declare itself
sniff rising green

Another day of what’s it mean

Blue chicory flowers open
in new light

Black-eyed Susans and late summer roses

I want to be an autotroph when I grow up
their grass is always greener

~ ~ ~

Ed knew how to drink

looking at the Cleveland Art Prize website I see Ed Mieczkowsk won 1966 visual arts prize . . . he and I were down in the Flats at a small Don Harvey partyin 1982 and he told me we should go elsewhere cuz only we two knew how to drink. Don Harvey also won the prize later, as did my date Masumi Hayashi, and Nevadomi won as well . . . interesting group of folk I was lucky enough to hook up with due to illegally living in a downtown warehouse for 5 years.
Looking at the site because Lady redesigned it for them.
https://clevelandartsprize.org/

The Cleveland Arts Prize

my 2024 July & August features on Medusa’s Kitchen

Been remiss in posting my monthly feature on Medusa’s Kitchen . . . 105 continuous months, 107 features.

Each feature 9 poems, 10 fotos.

***July feature – sez publisher / editor Kathy Kieth:
—Medusa, with thanks to Smith (Steven B. Smith) for sending us glory in the summer. Steven, who lives by the Cleveland Zoo, writes to us from his own zoo, and we’re mighty grateful for it!
And we’re glad to hear that yellow lab Marlowe Smith is recovering from his recent illness.
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/07/dance-data-deception.html

***August feature – sez Publisher / editor Kathy Kieth
“—Medusa, celebrating another valiant return to the Kitchen by Smith (Steven B. Smith), with his kaleidoscopic view of this sad old world on a hot August day…
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/08/magic-carpet-ride.html

me&Chat

Selected images past month by me&Chat
created for poems. here without.

~ ~ ~

little made big

Realized recently that I feel best “serving” . . . doing dishes and walking dog and doing laundry for wife so she can stress less over work, etc, little things that make big inside.
— image by me&ChatGPT

Obligato Terra Mundo

New poem, illustrated by me&ChatGPT.

ChatGPT had an issue with illustrating my poem, likely because of too many possible ways to go, so gave me this bit of dialogue before creating an image:

“It seems there was an issue generating the image. Let me try that again for you.

A laundromat scene with a modern feel, showing a man waiting in a slightly worn waiting room. The setting is ‘4 Quarter Laundry’ with two loads of laundry in progress, a clear view of the 58 quarters in the machines. The man sits thoughtfully, surrounded by the typical decor of a laundromat. The background includes a round dryer window with a dense wet bathroom rug tumbling inside. There’s a hint of a doctor’s office in the ambiance, suggesting the man is also waiting for a doctor. The atmosphere feels contemplative, capturing the themes of waiting, life’s uncertainties, and a touch of mysticism, reflecting the poem’s lines about life’s cyclical nature and reincarnation. The overall tone should be a mix of mundane and surreal, with subtle elements suggesting a journey or transformation.”

Excellent summation. I do not understand how Artificial Intelligence code can describe my poem better than I can . . . of course, I rarely explain my poems, figure that’s between the reader and the poem.

~ ~ ~

Obligato Terra Mundo

Down at 4 Quarter Laundry
doing 2 loads
58 quarters

Waiting in the waiting room
for the laundry to chug
for the doctor to come
for fairness to be
for folk to see
for you
for me and thee
for better be

Some say life’s a pyramid scheme
and then you die
others call it Reincarnation

Magic carpet ride
watch dense wet bathroom rug
twirl flop alone for 20 minutes
in round dryer window
ticket return

Unto life be a child
only then is heaven

I’ve offered my 1st born as payment
many a time
since sterilize in ’75

– Smith, 7.17.2024

Facebook Zuckerslime

A must see 1953 film about a Trumpish entertainer running for politics. You don’t need to see the film cuz you can turn on the news and watch in real time —

A Face In The Crowd, 1957, got an 8.2 rating on IMDB

Strange, tried to share the movie trailer to A Face In The Crowd and Facebook won’t let me post it because it violates their company policy . . . they find a post about crooked politicians to be offensive.

They own their slime.

It is a brilliant film, powerful. So here’s the trailer Facebook’s Zuckerslime doesn’t want you to see.

And Mr Fuckerslime can go intercourse himself.