Semi-Daily Scribbles
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Category: Human Nature
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Mae's walls closed in on her, Fred, the shelves filled with dusty tchotchke. Golden age turned lovers and objects into death traps. She needed to speak. It'd been years since Mae had anything to say. She'd long ago hung her heart on the wall in a nice Certificate of Achievement-sized frame. It had the most…
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This just in: This just is. Time, breath, pain, bliss. We're all in it. Minute-to-minute. Possessions are a blight. We chase after filler and fluff and can't keep up. Little of what I have can be called my own, so just let go. Three cheers–one wish–follow at your own risk.
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Mama had the megrims and Lettie was left to herself again. She sat on her bed, tracing the outlines of the bright yellow smiley face flowers stamped on her bedspread before turning her attention to the fresh outbreak of poison oak on the backs of her knees. Hot, itchy-scratchy pain and with no more ointment…
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Busy, busy bee. Mother of all industry. If it's true we write what we know, best to know as much as possible. One needs something quote worthy to say when one's work is called "a shabbily disguised conversion story." Either own the act of disciple-making, or close up shop. People say they prefer the truth,…
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do that artificial thing you doruffle blue feathers and count white liesand then call it the story that wrote itselfyellow heads bend backwards to look you in the eyesthis is a dizzy way to live and leaves us sicksome desperate kind of love
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Brandi never wanted to travel that meandering middleroad, where life shrinks and grows and folds in on itself to reveal the early-warning signs of wrinkles and wisdom. Only fresh starts and big payoffs would do. Brandi hated the thought that her life could be reduced to a monotonous crawl of sameness from day to day…
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Extra words turned into special sections that told Lenore what she was reading was true. What's more, the e-reader she held in her hands was her lifeline (her tightrope) between fussy babies and dirty nappies, and the version of herself she left behind in English 102. But back to those extra words that played hide-and-seek…
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Not disheartening: 1. Together we are alone.2. Apart we have grown.3. The future unknown. An outline never followed, this impasse saves us. What is reality when our memories are shaped by present-day preferences?
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Sure Corrie felt shitty reading her big sister's diary. Did feeling like a degenerate make Corrie put away what wasn't hers and go do something productive like laundry? Hell no. All of the people Shelley wrote about in her big red book were thinly disguised real folk, like too-close-to-home-folk. Like who could this bitchy character…
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Nowadays everyone's a narcissist. Is it even considered a personality disorder anymore? Narcissism seems like the norm. Fashionable, even. Good stuff to ruminate on, this. #justcurious #okmaybenot
Semi-Daily Scribbles 