ah yes
Occasionally you find yourself staring at a glowing rectangle by your lonesome and you realize that really, it’s your own fault.
obits
I see obituaries every single day in the newspaper, because apparently people don’t stop dying.
Sometimes it is natural and sometimes it is because they angered the wrong person, and sometimes it is because that is how the world works.
Some have religion and they believe in more.
I have none of this, and I see no rational reason to believe that anything exists beyond what we are right now, right here, while we breathe.
This is not fiction, but rather, the overwhelming fear that consumes me anytime I think about it.
I know that someday I will cease to exist, and I believe that nothing follows this, and that makes me question the wisdom of doing things right - but doing things right is the only thing that gives this meaning.
wishes
It’s been said a billion times, but the media poisons us.
I wish that jobs and love and success and revelations came in the packages they do on TV and that we didn’t have to think so much about every decision. Because if you are anything like any normal human, your thinking is universally wrong.
Then again, if life was simple, anyone with a modicum of intelligence would probably kill themselves.
“But she was seventeen now and not actually dumb. She knew that you could love somebody more than anything and still not love the person all that much, if you were busy with other things.”
― Jonathan Franzen, Freedom
Source: slaughterhouse90210
smug moon
That smug bastard moon, leaning on the stars, judging us.
You have permanence in your grin, but you aren’t permanent. Relative to your size and mission, your permanence is as long as ours, craterface.
We are flicks of a lighter to our master the Sun.
super poop
I only ever wanted to be normal, for a moment.
Then the doctors gave me the news - my superhuman status did not protect me from acid reflux disease.
I would have rather had cancer.
It wasn’t just the hearburn.
There was the bloating. I wear spandex all day.
They say don’t wear tight clothing, I walk around in two outfits.
…
this isn’t working.
Take 2:
Superman closed the door behind him. Eating kryptonite was the only way he could take a BM - this was how it sapped his strength and turned him to mere mortal. A rapid, inescapable building of poop.
all sofas go to heaven
Yeah, I’m your garbage. Act like it’s my fault the cushions got set on fire. I’m definitely the guy that decided to drink a 6 pack of some fancy microbrew and take a nap with a stoogie. I fully supported that, in fact. It was a cold night, I was excessively clean and dry, and the cleansing sting of flame brought me to a new spiritual plane - a place that you can’t fathom, because you haven’t been there and I have, man, and living on the ave- no possessions and no obligations like a sucker, just an agenda by me, for me, made to fit me, and the sometimes splash from the Hondas in the rain; I appreciate that you’ve helped me to this new plane of enlightenment, provided a chance for me to finish the enlightenment the fire began, and reach shit-furnishings heaven climbing spark by spark to the Mother Sun and Father Moon on a magical pre-drizzle coated day in a landfill two towns over.
make it sail
The dog once heard his master claim that “He” would never do it again.
“He” had said we were safe from that fate; but not all fate, apparently.
The house didn’t used to be in a gorge. Or the gorge didn’t use to be around the house. The dog didn’t have the long-term memory necessary to remember landscape details.
It was a poorly crafted vessel, and the master had succumbed to exposure in what was perhaps a world record worthy time, if there had been a world in which to keep records.
The news masters talked about colliders and risks and climates but this meant little to a dog.
One day, everything just shook. It didn’t stop for a long time. The dog had hid. When he crawled out from underneath a thrift store couch, the master was calling for him to set sail. They floated on a vaguely muddy ad hoc river system, indistinguishable blobs floating and smacking against the hull, sun everywhere.
Now they floated to the house, and the dog was confused, because the house had been gone for a long time. Or he had been gone for a long time.
He turned to the rotund corpse of the master and said
“Fuck it, even I can’t be this pretentious”
Then the aliens came.
winter nights
I like the first nights of winter.
The wind is refreshing. It signals change in pressure and system. It’s always the first spark of change that burns brightest.
There are clouds, which will bring snow, which weighs down a stark landscape.
Anticipation.
tests
years ago he looked at the perfectly oval dots in the booklet and filled them with precision strokes like he was inhabitated by a supernatural force of intelligence and decision making.
now he stumbles and falls through phone calls and awkward nights.
and he realizes that he was only ever good at multiple choice tests, with four answers laid out to pick from, and a really good chance B or C was correct, because D was clearly wrong and A didn’t quit make sense.
but now, there’s only two probable answers - yes and no, i do or i don’t, i will or i can’t - but there’s an infinite set of divergent outcomes from there, and that’s, frankly, terrifying.
you told me fortunes in american slang
