Monday, April 30, 2012

Feeling better, this sunny, warm last day of April, 2012. Sitting here now, margarita in hand, one fisting the keyboard, head rolled back, sun pounding down on my face.

Big clompy sunglasses. Party plans for the evening, won lottery ticket redeemed last Wednesday and I haven't paid any bills for the coming month. It's my frivolous middle finger. I'll pay the late fees and walk away smiling into this sunset, be-backpacked, five-toe shoes and a grin and a hip flask.

And, I promise you this, little world of mine, I won't die dully.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

When I dance? That's when I'm most alive. It can be any kind of dancing. Dancing in a dance club, dancing between raindrops (haha, no, not literally), dancing around deadlines at work, dancing with the trains down at the train yard.

Yeah, there's that old song, how's it go? 'Lost his leg in Dallas, he was dancing with the trains' ? Me? Am I in love with dying? I don't know, I've never met her. . . or him, have I? Can't say I'm impressed with their pictures, that's for sure.

Monday, April 16, 2012

The things I loved most were her unconditional hugs; her huge smile no matter how I staggered into our house.

She always had a story, and a drink (for me) that I didn't know I wanted until she slid it into my hand.

Friday, April 13, 2012

The surge of spiders swept over the Marshall's house mid june, long after their neighbors had abandoned their homes.

The Marshalls made a moat around their house, then a second moat, of gasoline and polystyrene. The spiders, though, slunk along the electricity and phone lines, when the Marshall's son Mitch fell asleep during his night watch.

We know this, because their daughter, Chastity, was chatting with her mother via computer when the spiders started pelting onto the windows and the roof like a chitinous, poisonous rain.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

I keep almost dying. Every time I think I'm about to die: POOF, that me is a log of wood, or a clone who evaporates instead of bleeding out, scraped along the road like a poorly kept play-dough figure.

I can't die, but it's not a case of reincarnation, its a case of never being there in the first place.

I've heard rumors of someone else who can't die. Maybe we'll meet some day.