--WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?

…”Life is a bitch.” 

I see that on bumper stickers all the time, but you have to wonder:  Why isn’t it pure bliss just to be alive?

…Yesterday was the best day in a long while.  It’s funny how little it takes to make a day great.  I am grateful for yesterday.  I am entirely grateful for you.

…All those blinks show we have to find what’s important to us.  After all, we only get so many of them.  I am grateful again.

…The truth is, I don’t know what I’m expecting anymore.

…Most people go through life trying to avoid pain and suffering, and while that might seem like a good idea, it’s not always.  Sometimes the pain and suffering teaches us our priorities.

…As unimaginable as it is, I don’t think I’ve yet felt the full extent of my suffering.

…Today’s post was to be something different altogether.  I had it all written up.  I had a partial, personal poem written to my mother on that potential post.  I had other personal things I was going to share.  Then it disappeared.  It’s probably my fault, but I blame it on the new MacBook.  Fucking Mac, you carnivore.

…My mind keeps thinking all of its harsh thoughts.  Sometimes it seems like my mind is not mine.  Does that make me schizophrenic?  Probably.

...Your mind will sneak out of the bushes and ambush you if you’re not careful.  So it’s best to listen, then, for the rattling of the leaves.

…Some kids do stuff that leave their parents shaking their heads, sadly disappointed.  But really, it’s good for a kid to have balls.  It’s a sign they’re going to be all right when they’re older because they have moxie (which is, by the way, one of my favorite words--moxie.).  Kids should have balls, no matter their gender.

…I also wrote lengthy (but bleak) (surprise!) poem that was on said-before erased post.  It had to do with depression and nightfall.  I think it was pretty good.  But, oh well, supposedly, no writing is wasted, even if it disappears.  But damn, Mac, why do you hate me so much?  

…I think it would help if I stopped listening to Ed Sheeran and Sam Smith.  The only music that could make me sadder would be that other Smith, Elliot.  And we all know what—tragically—happened there.

…What a sadist I am. Sadist or monster, which is it?

…”What do you really want?”   Now there’s a really well-asked question.  Thoughtful and provocative.

…The reason I never give up hope is because everything is basically hopeless.  And, also, because without hope, we are all fucked.

…Sometimes my dog makes noises in her sleep and she sounds like Ethel Merman with a towel wrapped around her mouth like a muzzle. It’s kind of cute, but kind of weird.  I wonder what she could possibly be dreaming.  My guess is chasing rabbits or squirrels.

…I can be a catastrophe, but I try to be a polite one.  Like a hurricane which swings off to the seas instead of sideswiping the coastline.

…I’m in pieces.  If you should find one on the ground, let it be.  I have to find my way back by itself.

…When I was a kid, it was like we had dog brains, and whatever was right in front of us was our reality.  But then, not really.  Not when you looked around at the brass tax of the situation and realized you were different, we were different, this is totally wrong.

…I know I can’t be nine years old forever, hiding in a closet, huddled beneath coat sleeves, safe from the sounds of destruction.  And still I am.  Goddamn, still I am.

…I have a stranger who lives five yards from my office.  Really, I do.  It’s a little freaky.  I hear her TV shows, her sneezing, her talking to herself.  She’s like a loud ghost, and ghosts just usually subtly rattle things.  

…I have always been a numbers guy.  Not like, a math guy.  I totally suck at math.  But a goal-setting guy.  I still believe in the importance of goals, but I’m not interested in keeping score anymore on the other stuff.

…The other stuff is the stuff I have to work through.

…Being human can sometimes feel like being discarded, which is why being human is a real stretch for me sometimes.

…You gotta be cruel to be kind…. I never understood that lyric until recently.  But even now, it doesn’t make complete sense.

…I’ve had the same song stuck in my head for two weeks.  That happens frequently with me.  “So I pick up the pieces, get on the midnight train”…. So tragic.

…I’m actually looking forward to today.  I’ll be with young people.  It’ll be an adventure.  I’ll learn things.  I’ll sing a new song and I might even whistle at some point.

…Do you want to talk?