Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Childhood
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Sometimes it takes a kick in the teeth to realize the thing you were good at as a kid is the antidote to being:afraid, bored, cowardly, destructive, early, fretful, greedy, humiliated, indignant, jaded, kiboshed, late, misunderstood,needy, obstinate, puerile, querulous, recreant, sad, tormented, unkempt, vitriolic, wishy-washy, xenophobic, You, zombified.
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My boss gave her team the holiday assignment of declaring the Island of Misfit Toys plaything with which each of us most identifies. That's some heavy stuff to ponder during these days of candles, cookies and EoY merrymaking. Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer is a stop-motion meditation on learning to love broken things, namely, ourselves. Or…
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In Junior High (ages me right there using that term) we got to do work rotations in the school office. What a lucky day that was when you got assigned mimeograph duty. The cranking of the machine! Silky, glistening paper rolling out thanks to your labor!! The smell!!! Bottle that shit, man. Oh, the soothing,…
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We're like feral children coming up in here. Raised by wolves. Literally. Now all this stimuli and rush of new experiences and feelings about what is really happening (which #1: WHAT is really happening? And #2: Feelings are things we can't even describe let alone understand because before we were, like, on all fours foraging…
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we've been summeringbubbles & sunfamily & funcares have been left behindat least for a little while hope you've been soaking uphappy hot weather memories too we'll catch up when it's cooler.
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longing for the old countrywhere its inhabitants would eat your tender bellyand spit out what would be left of any backboneyou are neither just off the boatnor are you 15 quid short of the price needed for membershipyour contacts are clouded by a pretty shade of pussy willowwhile you struggle to juggle disparate worlds in…
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course-correct this messpicard & riker jumped shipcourage & trust, son
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You are not alone. The kid who thinks the external world – from mac-n-cheez to thrill rides at the county fair – is put in place by magical mommies/daddies for her sole pleasure grows up to be the woman who questions the reality of the timecard – from cubicle walls to eyeballs gone blurry by…
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The Filchers don't care. You are just in their way. We're not real to them. Things, though. Things breathe, and feel, and transmit messages to us when we're fast asleep. Take that house on the corner, for example. It whispers a reedy greeting each time you pass by. "Hallooo Yoo." Things know us by how…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 