Monday, August 5, 2019





—THE END COMES TOO SOON, LIKE DREAMING OF ANGELS

…You can take just about anything for granted and not realize it, including breathing.

…Sometimes it can be a challenge, just trying to size up the morning.

…The things you can count on one hand are probably the things you should either reconsider or not trust in the slightest.

…It’s probably not a good sign if someone has to ask you if you love them.

…You can love too much, or not enough.  You can love and never really know why.  You can spend all your days loving and loving.

…I guess we all have selective amnesia from time to time.  Sometimes it’s defensive, other times it just happens for no reason whatsoever.

…I read someone’s bio where instead of best-selling author it said Worst Selling Author.  Made me chuckle.

…This is the week I’ve been waiting for forever.

…When you’re out picking fruit for hours and hours, there’s a lot of time to think, and that’s not always a good thing.

…Think too hard and long about all that’s left behind and it can crush you.

…Look how far we’ve traveled on those roads, full of potholes and landmines. 

…Here are three pieces I had up at Ghost Parachute in the last month or so:



…Some questions have no answers no matter how many times you slam your head against the wall.

…I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in 60 days.  I don’t know how much that changes anything, but I did it.

...Those blueberries, man, they’re everywhere, and lucky me, I got this happy ditty stuck in my craw while picking them yesterday in the sun:

 …Fear and hope—two of the shortest words, yet two of the biggest.

…You could be anywhere right now and I wouldn’t know.

…“And death, we think, happens only once.” Dorriane Laux

…“The goals we pursue are always veiled.  A girl who longs for marriage longs for something she knows nothing about.  The boy who hankers after fame has no idea what fame is.  The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us.” Milan Kundera

…I don’t know about you, but I’ve got to write it down, even cryptically.

…“We all live slapstick lives, under an explicable sentence of death.” Martin Gardner

…You could sit in this extra chair I have right there.  You could be the therapist that finally makes me safe enough.


…If you can figure out what I need, would you be kind enough to leave a note?

...And happiness?  It’s anyone’s guess.

“Hey, where did we go?  Days when the rains came…”

…But wasn’t it beautiful?



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