Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Nostalgia
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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is not a play. It's a rehearsal script. Something hardbound but not a literary work like, say…oh I don't know…The Cherry Orchard. The rehearsal script is a cash grab, but it's also the foundation for (by what I've read on the InterWebz, anyway) a fantastical stage production. Plot holes…
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I'll offer to entertain. Maybe slake a thirst you didn't know you had. Come sit beside me and let's repeat all those first time feelings they say can never flow through us again. If we're going to chase down a dream, Hope says the impossible is as good a goal as any.
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Today's thoughts are about shoes and how we wear them tight. Or too big. Sometimes not at all. But we sure don't like to put them on when challenged to walk a mile in somebody else's kicks. A few steps taken as someone "less" or "other than" is–let's be honest here–an affront to my everloving…
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Make up whatever narrativefits the occasionbe a leaderbe a followerbe controlled by: *fashion*popular opinion*the feel-goodswalk in the oppositedirection just topiss people offand then listento what they haveto say about … behaviorliesin thecrackthatseparatesdaydreamsanddone deeds.
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She doesn't think I see her, but I do. Oh, I do. The ramshackle lady in flimsy pink flip-flops is a ghost. Is a ghost. We all haunt the places we miss the most. Even when the body is bound up by the present day, the spirit struggles to have its way. It asks: "Is…
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[monsters hold down jobs] Some days you feel these steps have been laid out for you and you're slowly catching up with a predetermined outcome. [dawn is a hollow promise] I dare you to take a wrong turn. Just can't happen. Walk…run…[a shot in the dark] Makes no difference at all. You'll get there in…
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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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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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Gen X here and I'm not grumpy. I'm happy we're no longer a hot topic of conversation, although I understand many of my compadres are now referred to as sandwiches. The way I see it, there are lots of people older and younger than I am who do a bang up job of chasing after…
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Micah didn't think of himself as a fish out of water. He didn't like the confinement of schools, is all. The more people wandered into his circle, the more Micah felt outside the action, like an observer of an experiment with which he had no connection. Crowds made for lonesome company, so the back of…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 