Getting groceries delivered. In text communication with shopper. Tried to say “pate” for the kind of cat food. First auto correct: “potatoes.” Second auto correct: “tall tales.” Third auto correct: “Hot Ass.” Seriously. I gave up. He can get whatever he wants and the cats can damn well eat it.
Category Archives: Snippets & Bits
The Last Taste
If you were a mobster and got “hit” in a restaurant while having spaghetti and meatballs and had a meatball in your mouth and knew you were dying, would you try to taste the meatball as long as you could?
Honor vs. Dignity
To give her my loyalty, I would become disloyal to myself.
The Myopic Eye of Infinity
You ever find yourself thinking about some detail you are working on when suddenly you pull up a level to see the project in which that detail resides? And then you pop up one more level and see the goal that the project is just part of, and then the lifestyle improvement the goal will enable, and then the lifestyle choice, then the life plan and all of a sudden you pop up all the levels until you are looking back at that detail as if through the wrong end of a telescope. And slowly, you look up from that telescope and look around, and see this moment, and realize it might be your last or the very first of many more. And the sun shines and the breeze blows and you feel the love you have for those you hold most dear… And then you realize you have to eat, keep a roof over your head and take care of the kids and/or prepare for the day when you can’t take care of yourself any longer. And so, facing these stark realities and against your heart’s desire, you grab the wrong end of the telescope with both hands and claw your way back down the rabbit hole toward that horrid little detail and embrace it as if it was a long lost friend. Because you have to. Yeah, it’s Monday.
Everything New Is Old Again
Retro is coming back!
Gonzo
Write until the Muse is gone, then hump her lifeless body.
Introduction to my newest book of poems…
Pete stumbled backward as John advanced upon him with the staple gun. John grabbed Pete by the throat and shoved him hard against the wall, thrusting the tool into his face.
Veering off at the last moment, he stapled Pete’s shirt sleeve, then the other, the sides of his shirt, and his pants, until Pete was fastened helpless to the cheap wood paneling.
“Now,” shouted John, “you will listen to my poetry!”
“For the love of God, Montresor!” pleaded Pete.
“Damn Straight!” replied John, and he began to read…
(This is the opening for my newest book of poetry)
The Invisible Hand
A self-organizing narrative is indistinguishable from the hand of God.
Chicken Stock
Watching YouTube on my Fire Stick.
Put it on pause – Amazon made an online suggestion to try:
“Alexa – How do I make chicken stock?”
I thought about it for a moment and the answer came to me:
“First, you incorporate the chicken…”
Cthulhu for breakfast today…
