Friday, October 11, 2013

Four Minutes. Go!

There are a lot of things you can do in four minutes and a lot you can't. And a lot you can do in four that will seem like one or feel like hours. We all just muddy the waters, waiting for showers. Cause they bring mayflowers, which wasn't a real good thing for a lot of people, but what's done is done.

I feel the crispness in the air and panic starts to rise. I don't know why. The next few months will hit me hard. They always do. In the past they have meant trips to the ER and embarrassing breakdowns. This year, I don't know. Tis the magic of the season, I guess.

I want to be so many things that I can't keep track, so I end up covered in mud, spinning my wheels. I even throw my share. And I get muddied myself. The world is a fucked up place. It's hard to figure out who's right when everyone is.

Ignorance is a strange adventure. I know all about it. I am ignorant of so many things. And for someone who prides himself on characterization, I have been feeling real ignorant about real people lately. Or maybe disappointed is a better word. I'm disappointed in all of us.

But it's time to string lights and put up scary pictures. Won't that be fun.

9 comments:

  1. She was so goddamn ugly. No matter how she looked at herself in the mirror, even in the dark she wasn’t a pretty girl. All fleshy jowls and pockmarked cheeks. “I’m a fuckin’ potato face,” she says to the reflection each morning. But no matter what she looked like, or felt like, or wanted out of life, she still got up every day and went to work. Why? That’s a stupid ass question. Because the juice ain’t free, dumbass. Even when you blow the scuzzy guy in the stairwell at four in the morning and he’s too stoned to get it up, he still remembers you gotta pay him. She could, of course, bash his face in with a crowbar and take his shit. He’s a one-guy operation. A leader of no one. No crew to come chasing after her for retribution. But still. He is the only person in her life who shows up every day, come rain or shine. No matter what she looks like. And that’s enough for her. It has to be.

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    1. Thank you. Totally made my fucking day.

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    2. w00t! Says a lot in so few words. I'm punching my desk and thinking about tofu here and that's no euphemism, girl! ;)

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  2. I be tempted to say it was fortunate that I happened to be carrying chalk and salt with me. I'd be tempted to say that if I didn't always carry a piece of chalk and a salt shaker. You never know when you may have to give an impromptu lesson on Margarita making on little or no notice. Which is why I was also carrying a lime, a small blender, and a martini glass. But those items are all beside the point.

    Before I could compose myself (another interesting topic for another time...) the demon hit me with his most vile super power - his breath. Dragons get a bad rap about their breath. Compared to most Demon's breath, Dragon breath smells like a spring garden. I crouched low with chalk in hand and drew a circle of protection around me. The Demon, not used to having mortal survive an exhalation, turned his red eyes on the beautiful girl down the street. "What is it with beautiful girls? They are Demon magnets," I thought as I poured the salt evenly along the chalk outline of my power circle.

    Doing my best Bonnie Tyler impersonation I coo softly toward the retreating and highly around demon, "Turn around bright eyes..." The Demon snarled as spun in my direction. I touch my staff (literally, I rock a staff...so bite me) to the circle and start chanting. As my demon friend glares at me and starts to snarl I can see its going to be a long day...

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    1. Awesome dude. Man, you type fast as shit, too! Or think fast. Something. ;)

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  3. I don't really know what this is? Should I write something here for 4 minutes? Is that it? Okay....
    I know some people that are truly their own worst enemies. They can not seem to get out of their own way. They are weak and cowardly. They make bad choices knowingly. They think only of themselves. Inflicting emotional pain is a pleasure to them. If you need help they urge you to rely on them, but their lives are filled with irony. When you question them you are the fool. When you ask for explanations you are an idiot. When they fail, it's someone else's fault. They feel no love, nor pain. They are empty and taking up space. That's why I carry a vacuum in my purse.

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    Replies
    1. Rocket. Yes, you got the game, and I love it. :)

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