Whistle through the day

Where is the middle ground between my loving altogether in the whole sense and walking an ascetic life? It's no accident gurus and crones are long in the tooth It takes decades to learn anything in this life Anything that is worth a damn, anyway Those of us who claim to be forever youthful and … Continue reading Whistle through the day

Advertisements

I’m a dingbat, and it’s Monday

I swear, technology is going to drive me to drink . . . heh, heh. I have spent three hours trying to find this site on WordPress so that I could post some innocuous shit, possibly something about hearts and flowers.  It was going to be good, so good, that I would immediately gain thousands of followers … Continue reading I’m a dingbat, and it’s Monday

Why can’t stupidity be painful?

The general public is stupid. Crazy stupid. "Were you raised by goats??" stupid. Not just "Dang, I locked my keys in the car" stupid. Not just "Crap, I put the case of beer on top of the eggs" stupid. I mean "Let me put a starving wolverine down my pants just to watch it run … Continue reading Why can’t stupidity be painful?

Bowls of dust and sunset

This depression spreads more like a slough or a valley of barren dusty bowls of tinny wind chimes and wind that whistles through a crevice or two in trusting minds that all will be fine if one just keeps on through just one more day and one more night Really?  Another day of this muddy … Continue reading Bowls of dust and sunset

Interview with a stranger

He kept his eyes averted and fidgeted when he talked but something I said touched something in him because he came alive with words that tumbled out in a halting, insistent rush to tell me a story he had held on to like a talisman for more than thirty years. "I used to be the … Continue reading Interview with a stranger

The mystery continues

This is the third piece in the series "The Columbus Chronicles"   The guy on my left a couple of stools away smells like aftershave, the strong and cheap kind that comes in a pickle bucket.  He apparently bathes in it. Not as bad as what I imagine the little guy on his left smells … Continue reading The mystery continues

Touch the mystery

The Columbus Chronicles At 6 am I watch them, the men, one woman They stand on the sidewalk in front of the alcove and they don't talk much but their bowed heads and their shuffling feet, cigarettes puffed quickly, speak to not who they are but what they are They are thirsty They are anticipating … Continue reading Touch the mystery

Talking to the walls

Don't mind me--it's just another day to avoid reflection, to engage in deflection not answer the phone or check the mail, because it's just another day of the same questions over and over from the same faceless drone in an office 200 miles away, getting cocky with impatience It's not my fault you don't know … Continue reading Talking to the walls