Getting to her is half of the...

Well it's just half of it. Finding that right combination of anesthesia and patior. The correct balance of a denied reality and that wonderful "beyond" place where ramifications have long ago gone extinct. Getting to her requires glass after glass, or bottle after bottle, meaning that it's a liquid lunch as well as ( Read more... )

She struggled with a nagging question that we all struggle with at times. How tightly to hold onto those thoughts and dreams and goals formed so very early on. She certainly didn't want to kill off her inner Peter (Pietra, Patricia?) Pan, yet she wouldn't wholly mind if it just kept its fucking mouth shut every so often. It was that endless fight ( Read more... )

It's not that life was perfect before, it's just that it was...well calibrated. There were plans, the plans were followed, the plans were completed. It was a closed system. It wasn't great, but it was stable and fuck, stability is underrated by most.

But the hidden point is that it's boring. It's boring because you're used to it. So much so that you ( Read more... )

( The Chickens are coming and I just can't pretend... )

Perhaps not completely though. You write (sometimes even well) and those words; those lousy little words can catch up with you. To you, they matter little. You toss them away as if cigarette butts. Momentarily filled with a purpose, now useless. To some readers though, they believe that each every word written must be lodged in your brain as if ( Read more... )

“That a shame, a damn shame,” my conscious mind mocked. It’s what it did, in theory to make the pain easier to bare. In theory…

“Not only is it a damn shame, it’s a damn, dirty shame. That’s what it is.” It rambled on, it always did; viewing jokes as if they were layer cakes. Never quite satisfied with them and forever trying to add just one ( Read more... )

Maybe it just comes down to the idea of losing yourself in someone. Not completely of course, but a decent amount. Enough to fool yourself that the timing of the Reservoir Air Open Valve in the grand scheme of life probably isn’t all that important. Enough to numb the fact that for eight hours a day, 5 days a week you care about crap that you never ( Read more... )

The sight was surreal.

That was how it started. It was a ten year old mistake I never noticed. The sight was “surreal”? One of those lovely terms that may hold weight in person, when the event is taking place. But on paper (or a video monitor) it’s pretty much meaningless ( Read more... )

I guess you’re either creating or re-living. Or possibility both, and probably always. You live and the whole time your mind is churning about, double checking everything to see if any of the present combinations rings a bell ( Read more... )

It's an odd thing when you hear someone cover you for the first time. Honored because the took the time to do so, utterly convinced you'll never play that song again because they completely smoked the original. I'm like an untalented Robert Zimmerman.


( Read more... )