—OH, WE’RE IN TOUBLE, I SEE TROUBLE

 

…I apologize for my absence this week. I am not one to promise something (I post here every M, W, Friday without fail) and not deliver, but sometimes there’s nothing you can do, obstacles get in the way, and so what you try really hard to do is remind yourself: It could be a lot worse. So why worry about that?

 

…Easier said than done.

 

…I’d probably live a lot longer if I didn’t worry so much. 

 

…Why is it you cry more the older you get?

 

…“People harbor these angers for people they should love, and for what? Why?” Jenna Bush

 

…I met the FedEx person at the door and when she handed me my laptop, I almost hugged her. It felt like we’d just had a child together.   

 

…I think the word “Twit” starts with an L and not a T.

 

…So far it doesn’t hurt that much. Unless I consider that thing you said when you said it, though you said you didn’t mean it, though I know you really did.  

 

…I’d like to think I’m a fairly intelligent person, same as anyone else, right? But, well, there are a lot of nights you don’t know.

 

…Holy fuck, who does this? I’m guessing no one. Why would they if they’re sane?

 

…Was that a good decision? You’ll have to let me know tomorrow, please. 

 

…If you had as many bumps on your face as me, you’d definitely be running for the hills.

 

…It’s hard to be a fan and not be passionate. Otherwise, what’s the point of being a fan?

 

…If you can't pour a can of Diet Coke into a glass without spilling it all over the table, you’re probably in trouble.

 

…But if you can smell things like coffee, cologne and wine, and if you can sort of taste the food you’re eating, it’s probably worth the tradeoff.

 

…If I’m being perfectly honest, the answer is, no. I’m not okay a lot of the times.

 

…But I had the best hamburger of my life, the best toast of my life, and for fucking sure, the best chicken wings of my life last week, So, there’s that.

 

…Sparky, you really need to stop talking to me so much if you’re going to survive.

 

--Oh, Boy.

 

…Streetlights creep up through the blinds, and the ceiling I’m standing under isn’t even mine… 

 

…For a while there, I forgot what the rain sounded like.

 

…(…)

 

…Here I am again, splayed.

 

…It’s probably a really good thing I spend so much time alone.

 

…A day I don’t write is a bad day. I really can’t fathom not writing. 

 

….“It felt like shelter, to speak to you.” Emily Dickinson

 

--Again?

--Yep.

--You’re fucking kidding me, right?

--I wish I was.

--What a Chucklehead.

--I’m sorry.

--Stop fucking saying you’re sorry all the time. What are you even sorry for?

--I don’t know.

--See?

--Maybe I’m that guy?

--What guy? What guy are you talking about?

--The one you don’t wanna be.

--Bitch, shut the fuck up. You’re not that guy.

--Okay, if you say so.

 

…You should talk to someone. Just make sure it’s the right person.

 

…Oh, boy, this was a bad idea.

 

...1:27am is not a good time, or a good look, for anyone.

 

…“Seriously?”

 

…Yeah, just drop me off at the Circle-K. I’ll figure it out from there.

 

…Might be time for some (upbeat) music. What say you?

 

--Do you think I need a sleeping pill? A Unisom or something?

--Dude, look at you right now. You’re a trailer no one’s going to fix.

--I think you might be right about that.

 

---Good night now.

 

…You don’t even wanna know. Trust me.