Good evening once again dear digital denizens. It is I, your least favorite purveyor of pseudo-melancholy and general belligerence. Plus the occasional cute dog photo or something else wholesome. You know, for the kids… If any children are reading this, I apologize, your parental oversight is distinctly lacking. My suggestion would be start setting fires, that typically procures the desired attention.
Wow did that opening drag on…
My near two-week publishing absence was deeply ironic in the sense that I was literally stuck at home for nine days straight, laid up with an apocalyptic spine. I was dismayed to realize that as long as I was stuck on the couch I couldn’t write a single line. That is next level, H.L. Mencken-style ironic. Mostly unrelated, one of my absolute favorite quotes is from the aforementioned gentleman, (I have zero evidence he was actually a gentleman). Speaking of Richard Nixon he said, “He both stinks and shines like mackerel under moonlight”. Maybe it’s the mackerel/ moonlight alliteration, perhaps just the supreme aptness of comparing Milhous to rancid seafood. I’ve never forgotten it. Uhh anyway… so that’s where the words were last week.
For anyone still reading you are to be rewarded with two new pieces today. One short, one long, one rhymes, one’s wrong, one comedic, one serious, suck it thots, we imperious.
That wasn’t one of them. And it was determined earlier today that the term “thot” is being taken back. Sorry neckbeards. I would encourage y’all to break free of your basements! Please do shower first however.
“Lost and Bound”, October 4, 2018.
There is a place where my socks always hide
It’s in the dryer, just off to one side
Jimmy Hoffa and the Lindbergh baby
Ensconced within this appliance maybe?
Likely not but HAVE the authorities looked into this? I think even Amelia may be in there somewhere but YOU think up a good rhyme for Earhart…
Next up, non-rhyming sacrilege. Enjoy!
“Snowflakes”, September 24, 2018.
Comedy is like
To every ear
Our relative perspective
Plus its reception
By singular intimate lens
Like corralling sand
Upwards through funnels
Better off to locate
Most have found
A fresh comic
Or more ideal truth.
A couple of thoughts, the dual nature of the term snowflake was not intentional nor is meant as such. More importantly though, the term “universal truth” is, certainly according to this poem anyway, uniquely paradoxical. There IS no base truth because literally every single human sees it at least a touch differently. One cannot reduce a fraction with a perpetually fluctuating numerator. Every thought “tainted” by our personal everything. None quite the same. Not unlike that fluffy rain that happens when it’s cold.
Granted the ending displays a vaguely jaded sentiment but as soon as those in positions of power stop behaving like a congress, (group of orangutans), I will favor more optimistic endings once more.
That was an atrocious statement. The noble Orangutans would never stoop to the sickening lows of humanity. Plus they have hilarious nipples. And that’s its own reward.
Happy trails and waggy tails, ya fucking Thots!
A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.