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Welcome Reader!

Below you will find a mixture of prose, poetry, random thoughts and a variety of images including some of my favorite music videos. The icons above will take you to my other social media pages. Click the blue button on the right to subscribe to this blog and receive posts in your reader.

But most of all enjoy your time here 🙂

The Danger of Happiness

Love is not an emotion
But a charm
An emblem of luck and the unknowing . . .

I saw only loneliness and desperation then
And that was my mirror.
The clear glass, non-metallic,
disagreed . . .

Never measure yourself.
Allow others who would see you
thrive. Unpredictable moments are
the danger of
happiness.

I Get Praise Sometimes (Satire)

Blog Details
      Begin Date: March 2010
      Number of Posts: 360
      Number of Good Posts: Six
      Avg. Reader Review: Four Stars

Reader Reviews

“This blog uses a lot of words many of them more than five letters. I didn’t know so many words existed. I was going to buy my son a dictionary but I’ll just have him read this blog instead. Not all the words are in here but enough of them are. I mean who uses the whole dictionary anyway? It’s a lot.”
five star review from reader nerdmom0-0.

“When I first read this blog I said Whoa! And then I said I’m not on a horse! Ha ha. That was just a joke. This blog isn’t really funny but that isn’t always what gets the job done. You know what they say. To make an omlet you have to break a few eggs. And what do eggs have in them? Jokes. I mean yolks. Ha ha. Humor is good for you.”
four star review from reader lolsandwich.

“i can type faster than i can read
i hope this blog is good
yep
i was right”
five star review from reader upsidedownunicorn.

“At first, when I read this blog, I was confused. Then, when I saw that no one was reading it, I knew he must be a genius. They don’t get it, I said, to myself. This dude, must be on a whole other level, like, when is a tree, not a tree? I don’t know, I mean, if it’s not a tree, isn’t it called something, else? I have a lot of thoughts.”
five star review from reader fisherstevensego24.

“When I ran across this blog I could immediately tell how empathetic the writing was. I could so relate. I really saw myself in it. Like it was a mirror. Or a photograph of me. With really flattering lighting. Shot in black and white cuz that’s so sexy. Follow me on Instagram at [removed at request of user].”
four star review from reader pikachuyum433.

“I have no opinoin on the blog but you probably this read review becuz people our sheep.”
three star review from reader notruthforyou.

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Spare Beginnings

 
 
He looked to his left and then to his right before crossing the two-lane road. The street lay empty in that early, humid hour. He breathed in the musky air as he moved across it toward a fenced-in area on the other side, a protected habitat, a bulge of fauna sorely contrasting with the scrubby grass and angular terrain around it.

He heard just a whisper of civilization. The rustle of tall grass beyond the fence registered more profoundly on him. The fence itself was made to look like logs fixed together but that was an illusion of manufacturing. A warning sign posted there which read “Protected Wildlife Area. Do not Cross.” featured the outline of a heron-like bird which he figured to be more symbolic than anything.

He listened into the vegetation for any noise
of the living. He leaned on the fence and
whispered something apropos of nothing.
There was no echo.

Tiny violet flowers hung from a nearby vine,
slight but sturdy, subtle in their scent.

He thought onto the day ahead,
the inevitable stresses, the obligations,
the people whom he’d built
his life around.

And the loneliness of it all.

He’d once watched a rabbit creep out onto the tar-like surface of the road from this refuge. It hopped and wriggled in the twilight, seeming more like an abstraction to him than a living, breathing thing. When a car rushed by, the rabbit dove back into the underbrush from where it had come. How beneficial were its motives in emerging onto the road? How quickly it returned, he thought. It must’ve been wandering.

He huddled in his jacket as a brisk breeze swept over him. Yet he waited there in silence for the sun to rise. And then, for the warmth to return which wasn’t for hours after.
 
 

A Love Song – Re-post


 
 
Guitar intro.

SINGER:
There’s a man out on the street
(I don’t remember which street)
Screaming about the injustice
Of not having enough to eat
Of not having a job to go to
Of fearing for his life

And they just don’t understand
They tell him to go home
(I don’t remember if he has a home)
But he only breaks down and cries

AUDIENCE:
That’s brilliant.
Very astute observations.

SINGER:
Thank you.
I write what I see.

AUDIENCE:
But what can be done about it?

SINGER:
Is there anything we can do
To make the world listen?
Can love truly heal the world?
Do we have enough love anyway?

Muted harmonica.
Ocean waves.
Seagulls.

SINGER:
If you’ve never asked these questions
You might need to take to the street
(I don’t remember which street)
And see the man who always cries
It’s his prayer to stay alive

AUDIENCE:
We love you.
You should be a star.
The world needs to hear your message.

SINGER:
Thank you.
That means a lot to me.

Crash of guitars.

SINGER:
But it doesn’t mean a thing
To that man out on the street
(Which street?
Every street?
I don’t remember at all)
Who will never return to his home
Without justice

Piano outro.

AUDIENCE:
Standing ovation.
Huzzah.

SINGER:
I love you all.
Drive safely.
Goodnight.
 
 

Pretentious Documentary

Author’s note: I haven’t been able to write much that’s postable lately. I’ve been doing a lot of longform writing meant for other forums, so I’ve been trying to find some fragments and unfinished pieces in my notebooks to post. The one I’m posting today is a script that I started but never finished. It’s very random and hopefully somewhat amusing. Enjoy!

*

Act Zero, Scene Zero
(Because life does not follow the rules of order.)

(A beach in the morning. The surf calmly laps against the shore.)

NARRATOR: Is this peace?

(The same beach at sunset. The waves are crashing hard. The sky is red.)

NARRATOR: Now is it violence?

(Series of random harsh and chaotic images.)

NARRATOR: Violence is a form of insanity. But not just any form of insanity. It’s a very sane form of insanity. “Contradiction?” you ask. You question too much. Maybe you don’t sit and reflect. Maybe you throw darts at the wall and don’t consider the damage done. Bullseye?

(A dartboard in a dive bar.)

NARRATOR: Matador!

(A matador fighting a bull.)

NARRATOR: Hero?

(A ballerina spinning on her toes.)

NARRATOR: Revolution!

(Series of random soothing but abstract images.)

NARRATOR: She’s dances out the kind of rebellion you can only dream about! This is the circle of life. The oval of existence. The figure-eight of joie de vivre. Think hard and then toss away your thoughts to be swallowed by the tornado of her raison d’etre. Just look. Use your eyes. Even if you’re blind, you’ll watch, mesmerized by nothing, because art is everything!

(A painting. It explodes.)

NARRATOR: Aaaaaaarrrrrrgggggggghhhhhh . . .

(The end?)

*

Seamless Synthesis (Version 2)

Author’s note: This is a rewrite of a poem I originally posted in 2012. Here is a link to the original version.
 
 
 
Technology has changed everything
            except for me, and
      I’ve waited
For transformation my entire life.

What is etched in silicon
Frustrates . . .

(seamless synthesis – but not so easy
to digest – until your hunger finally
comes to a rest . . .
)

What is built from carbon
Burns on . . .

But now that I’ve changed everything
            I feel a loss, though
      I’ve gained.
How do I square desire with fate?
 
 

The Turtle and the Dragon


 
 
(In a dim cavern, a turtle lies prone on its back, feet flailing in the air. A dragon approaches it sporting a wicked grin.)

DRAGON: Poor creature, I see you fearful
      on the armor you possess
      now vulnerable to any and all wickedness.

TURTLE: I came here of my own free will
      and stumbled for the plan.
      An event horizon: when expiration began.

DRAGON: He who has the flame will burn
      whatever entices his sight.
      There is no doubt in the killing light.

TURTLE: It’s confusion that animates us,
      allows us a manic thrust at breath.
      The only certainty is unapologetic death.

DRAGON: Shall I spare you my aggression
      for your suffering yields no gain?

TURTLE: Would you spare me this writhing in pain?

DRAGON: Should I tip you over,
      let you on your tiny way?

TURTLE: Would you defy your nature as you say?

DRAGON: What I choose to do matters not,
      for I have no soul to save.

TURTLE: That would truly mark you brave.

DRAGON: The flame would extinguish;
      Fear would give way.
      Darkness is not a deepening
      but the birth of day.

TURTLE: The sun in morning rises high,
      and so in mercy will I.

(The dragon turns the turtle and puts it back on its feet. The turtle begins to move slowly toward the cavern’s exit.)

DRAGON: Yet you still are underground,
      beneath the dirt but not growing.

TURTLE: Step by humble step, I am going.

DRAGON: And it was evil that gave you power
      to move through life again.

TURTLE: So it has always been.
      We don’t choose our world or harden
      the stone that pock our garden.
      We are fate turned right-side-up,
      and that must be enough.

(Fade to grey.)
 
 

Out of Season

Granite Falls Tree
 
 
The air splintered; the trees remained upright.
      I alone stumbled.

(I think that trees shed their leaves not because
of a rift, a lack of desire, but for a love that
truly pains arms which hold tight . . . )

I will be generous when I am able.
The doors around us latch like Winter
      settling in.