The reflected eyes above the sink? They are not always the kindest pair. Not mine. Not to me.
Dreary weather. Aggressive commercialism. Synthesized prerequisites for communal happiness. And all the wonderful reminders of your own loneliness, a fear in perpetuity.
Bah humbug, as said the classic holiday scapegoat. Not the green furry one. The one that’s pretty much C. Montgomery Burns, but in England and more covered in coal dust.
Continue reading “Sunday Morning Thoughts: 12.2.18”
Orange paper, stuck to the desk.
It read, “it is good for a poet to wait in the rain.”
Continue reading “Sunday Morning Thoughts: 11.25.18”
Without much or any effort or attention, I easily find myself unconnected. Seeing so much of the world as on the other side of some glass wall. Or worse, a two-way mirror.
Can’t break the mold, as they say.
But as my days past turn to years and those years start to pile, I have lost more and more of the fear of those flaws. For some of them can never change. And those that can change, march me more towards being a better man.
Whatever that may mean.
Perhaps, once, I knew an audience I was writing for. Broad, and yet more specific at certain points. This was once more a letter outward more than whatever it is now.
Or am I remembering incorrectly? Well within possibility.
Continue reading “Sunday Morning Thoughts: 11.4.18”
May be masochism. Maybe something a bit more sublimated. May be a sign of acceptance, which I’ve heard tell is a part of good mental health.
Maybe I just like to act the contrary.
Continue reading “Sunday Morning Thoughts: 10.21.18”