Misprogeny

I know what it's like to see a woman you don't know and mistake her for a pair of legs that are open for business. It's like seeing an animal in the clouds, and not realizing it's a cloud. A cloud is a miraculous confluence of events. And I'm sorry you don't see it for what it is. But I am very disappointed in you for preferring what want to see over appreciating what is. You are not a man. You are an animal in the clouds. And you do not represent us. We are all clouds.

Hooked on a feeling?

Hey, (x)ids:

Don't stick with a feeling too long (no matter what it is); nothing lasts.

This is (y)our only respite.

Other things to remember:

You catch more bees with honey.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you.

Vs.anity

To the Troops:

We are poorer without you.

I don't believe in War, but I believe in you.

Sorry, I'm late. But you should be home by now, so- you are too.

Moonlight for nada

My sister, Sheri, and I are standing in a very red restaurant lobby. I am dressed for casual fine-dining and she is wearing a maternity dress with a baby bag on her shoulder. I can't tell if she's pregnant.

-Where are you headed? ,I ask.

She looks down at her shoulder-bag and rummages through it briefly, awkwardly, making sure she brought anything she may need.

-I'm sorry we couldn't eat together at Maddie's.

Quite innocently persisting, I say:

-Well, you're here now, let's just go now.

She nods once, and we continue together into the seating area. We sit at a booth and are immediately presented with menus by an unacknowledged server.

We open our menus and find that every line in it is highlighted, indicating to both of us, that it was prepared by wife, Kate. Neither of us mentions this. 

In what has become an inexplicably awkward moment for me, I suggest turning on the radio, a converted napkin dispenser at our booth. Sitting face-to-face, both of us lean in closely to hear the weak signal emanating from it. A crackling, detuned static.

-What does it mean? Sheri asks, innocently.

I lean in slightly closer.

I wake up to a detuned radio. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata vs. Pink Floyd's 'Have A Cigar'.

True story.

Whatever I say, I'm sorry.

What makes cancer so tenacious?

The moon rules the fluids

Including the inner juices of human beings

That which assimilates, and feeds the body

So the crab feeds his astral plane

Assimilating and distributing all that he receives

Slowly, until it becomes a part of him.

-- Building Steam with a Grain of Salt

Krista:

Since I found out what I have to do, I don't fit in. I'm sorry.

Update: Krista just found out what she has to do. I hope she understands.

Circle of fri(ends)

Nigel:

I may have misjudged you. But I can't promise I won't do it again.

This is how friends are made.

Jason:

I may have misjudged you. But I can't promise I won't do it again.

This is how friends are made to last.

Fly weight

And in this corner:

A man that wants to go out fighting,
And hopes it's fighting an inanimate object.

(I think I know that won't work...)

I need something that can absorb all the shame of every fist I throw. Something that doesn't understand the frustration of being only strong enough to stand up. Something that isn't a man's son, or a mother's daughter. Something that can't hurt.
I have to do this,
so I can say that I would never hurt a fly.