Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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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 ego. I'm the star of the movie that plays on a continuous loop inside my tiny reptilian brain, damn it! No supporting roles for me, I tell you. And I'm not a method actor. I can pretend.Pretend.
Empathy is irksome and outdated, like busted umbrellas and mismatched sneakers left in the Lost & Found.
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The only thing one can do is say yes and see where the open door leads.
Max was certain success would find him once he'd hit one of those milestone birthdays (pick your favorite one–it doesn't matter), but his bank account remained an embarrassment. So puny! Where was the swimming pool filled with cash he'd seen in his dreams? Max said Yes. Many times, in fact. Wasn't the Universe supposed to help a guy out when he moved and shook things? I don't suppose we'll ever know what happened with all those affirmatives Max bandied about, but a Yes has been known to slam doors closed regardless of one's desires. No? -
Miss Ruby Kew wishes to thank the Ministry of Reality for her recent appointment as Special Spokesmodel to the General Citizenry for Bitter Fruit. Miss Kew recognizes how important this post is, and promises to uphold the Ministry's mission to inject a little bit of the unappealing into our busy, saccharine-rich lives.Pucker Up and Embrace the Bitter!™
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cool weather makes a blue friday better. pull on some spirit. wear ya hair big. this rowdy crowd of 1 looks like a mix of medusa and rudolph. optical illusions for the win. -
Chance is a mile marker on the road between birth and death. Chance really means Supposed To Happen. Events occur as we cruise along life's highway. Outcomes, though? Beautifully complex is the study of unpredictability! We each walk a path littered with opportunities, and existence is heavy on the questions. Missed anything? Got it right? Having fun yet? You are the action that keeps the plan (don't ask) in play. Blood + bone = tokens of luck. You've got to churn out choices while the moth flaps its wings. These are the rules of the game. -
Petra won't have to stare at spreadsheets for 10 hours a day anymore. Accepting that job at the equipment place was one of her more stupid moves. Petra is a talker and a fixer and a can't-sit-down-for-long kind of gal. She must be seen and heard while she is seeing and hearing everything going on around her. That's entertainment! That's just her brain. Turbulence and an increased heart rate gets Petra to give her best. So what if she's on an adventure to deal with frustrated people who can't muster 500 Mbps at their house at the end of the logging road several miles off the interstate? For Petra, life is dull without change and challenges. Toss in a pile of cranky customers and Petra will have her fill of c-words in no time. Criminy! -
it's ok if the songwriting suffers
the poetry stinks
snapshots of flowers
boring/blurry/bathed in shitty light
it's all right
the big red death moon
and a pox on your lips
brings big big change
and change is magic
disguised as one's biggest fear -
What if real life is what happens after 0s and 1s are planted in cloudy, fertile soil? Soil that is weightless, tasteless, clean? Your body is merely a delivery system for sweet precious data. Your blood is weak tea. Your content is meat and veg and apple pie à la mode. Eat up, World!You are invisible on land, but in the cumulus and nimbus you are immortal royalty. Upload! Behold! We are all so very exposed. Rejoice!
Semi-Daily Scribbles 