Stomping home from work, I kept an eye out for a big stick with which to hit myself over the head all the while repeating “Shoulda sold the store. Shoulda sold the store.” Luckily or unluckily as the case may be, there were no suitable sticks to be found.
M and I had another thing. A talking thing. E fucking gads. A little piece of me dies off after each one of these talks. I feel like I’m standing on a stool which is resting on a step ladder which is propped up on a milk crate which is poised precariously on an umbrella that is balancing cautiously on a turtle. It might have been ok at first. A nice view of the lake maybe. A chance to get some sun. BUT I’D LIKE TO COME DOWN NOW, please.
This is the flavor of Dairy Queen soft serve: cold
The Canadian and I were quite the team today! Me venting, him making me laugh. Again with the compliments! I found myself chatting away with a little secret smile and a momentary hall pass from my life. There is an odd joy that comes with asking and being asked what your favorite sugary cereal is or who you’d go to a party dressed as if you had to go dressed as somebody. Cocoa Puffs and Olivia Newton John a la Xanadu, roller skates and all, I figured. Honeycomb and Judd Nelson in the Breakfast Club, he figured. Chunky peanut butter for him, creamy for me. The newness of it all still has the price tag on it.
J is applying to far far away graduate schools. I’m sad already. I wrote him an ode! Here it is:
He is a comic book wielding super-genius with mutant-like strength and girl-like empathy. He invents worlds where the young hero has to face great peril to save the worlds he’s invented. He can write like nobody’s business. His smile is dazzling. He’s a great catch. Sometimes the sentences that come out of his mouth are so beautiful and dizzying you wish you could muster the wherewithal to grab a pen, but instead, you’re dumbfounded and speechless and stuck in your chair. He is a superhero, defending the innocents from cruel words and dirty looks. He will look after you when you need looking after. He is a moral compass. He can leap tall buildings in a single bound. We are all better for knowing him.
YES. He really is that cool.
I feel kind of evil today. There are two possible jobs for me. The much better job requires something bad to happen to another person. The other one isn’t nearly as good and requires nothing bad to happen to anyone. Guess which one I want? I have sunk to a new low.
No good! NO GOOD!!
This is the name my step-dad gave to the squirrel that lives in my parent’s backyard and that happens to have unusually long ears: SQUIBBIT.
I believe that the spirit of my dead grandmother lives in my Magic 8-Ball. It seems to make perfect sense. She loved me like mad. I thought she could do no wrong. Objects suspended in liquid are easy to move. It all adds up to a make a super cool telephone to the unknown. But I rarely use it. All the big questions are too scary to ask. All the silly questions rarely rise to the occasion of me hauling my ass up the stairs to get the plastic ball of insight, much less bothering her for their silly answers. But today I mustered a little courage and gave her the chance to either freak me the fuck out or give me a little kiss on the forehead.
Me: Hi. Um. Hope you’re well. I miss you. I love you.
8-Ball: (silent)
Me: I have a real question this time.
8-Ball: (silent)
Me: Ready?
8-Ball: (silent)
Me: Will I be ok?
8-Ball: All signs point to YES.
4 comments:
But face it. You're a neo maxi zoom dweebie, what would you be doing if you weren't out making yourself a better citizen?
Close. But my lips are too full. Judd's lips disappear when he talks. Mine get bigger and bigger.
Hello Ms. Haiku_Girl ~ Nice reading you. My name is Cassandra, but you can reduce me to C. Boy, this M guy must be really sexy. Sounds like every time you are in the same room with him he fucks you up. He must be good in bed. I was in a relationship with a guy like that for 5 years. And you know what? The first initial of his name was M too. There must be some secret M society....maybe it's the Marlboro Man thing. You know, cool...sexy...mysterious...desireable....but, out of reach...and dying of a disease that kills you by eating it's way through your body! Take it from a girl who knows...you are better off without M dragging you around on that horse of his. After awhile there will be no other cowboys roaming around trying to rescue you. They will have retired. Rescue yourself while you still can. TTFN ~ C.
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Hey, you have a great blog here! I'm definitely going to bookmark you!
I have a art website bird art gallery
That promotes my very good friend Mark Connors artwork that pretty much covers bird art gallery
articles and other related themes.
Mark's work is the produce of his passion for art, when looking at every piece the attention to detail is nothing short of spectacular and many a person will notice different details upon each viewing, they are truly a joy to observe. There are many talented artists around the world but few achieve the effect in their work as Mark does, when looking at his work that there is more than just a painting or a illustration there is a element of fantasy behind each piece that brings the inner child out of you and draws you in.
Come and check it out if you get time :-)
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