Day 90: Cha…cha…changes

I spent the majority of my free weekend hours exploring a hesitant world opening itself back up in predictably predefined percentages here in this City of Wayne, visiting places once so familiar, but now feeling so indefinably foreign to me.  Places that seem to hold only the shadows of former intimate strangers and their hesitantly hushed whispers of judgements passed with each new round bought and each door reopened. Those places have remained outwardly the same, but tragically changed inwardly from the unspecified makeover repercussions of a forced pandemically inspired isolation.  This little flyover town has become somehow smaller and less inviting, leaving timidity and caution behind to whore themselves out reservedly towards temporary economic lifelines and the capitalistic dancing performed to the steps designated by …

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Day 88: Will Write for Friends

She asked me, with an almost heartbreaking sincerity, to use my words for her and write something about why life has to be so hard.  And I’m not sure that I will be able to find any satisfactory answers for her. All that I know for certain is that there is just… life, with all its frustratingly intricate nuances and endlessly cascading curtains of change.  There is just this existence, so pandemically temporary, on this ridiculous blue marble dancing its repetitively circular journey through the vast emptiness of the great black void.  Sometimes, if we are lucky, we find ourselves graced in the beneficial embrace of an easy existence too often taken for granted.  Simple times.  Times when the equations add up neatly into the sum …

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Going to California

  I am stuck hard in the quagmire of inaction tonight. Though my soul yearns so desperately for movement, I regrettably remain stubbornly stuck here, locked down, in this little flyover town.  Stuck with only memories of earlier days, those tedious mental leftovers served in place of a more nutritious and sustaining evening meal.  Stuck with the bitter taste of a half-hearted isolation left lingering on the palate of this City of Wayne not yet fully opened.  Stuck with only myself for company and that’s just no fun. I miss moving. I miss long, pointless summer drives cutting across the flatly green carpeting of another Indiana summer. I miss the feelings of reckless adventure and exploration that help foster a clearer head and a less temperamentally …

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Day 71: Never Look A Gift Fox In His Words

They often call it a gift. Far too often over the preceding years, when I have allowed myself to be so brashly ignoble as to actually share some of my haltingly hesitant words, I have heard that particular phrase being uttered with what I am sure were genuinely earnest intentions.  And I always struggle to hold my tongue and simply make awkward acknowledgement of the objectively unwarranted good graces of their kind intent. But it is not a gift. And yet, neither is it wholly a curse.  It instead finds an elusive definition somewhere in the middle, seldom seen and running deviously unnoticed in the encroaching shadows, just like the mischievous fox, slinking his way cunningly cautious through the darkness of another Indiana summer night draped …

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brokenheart

Day 68: Under the Spring Oaks

Fuck, this one is going to hurt. All day I tried my best to ignore the many electronic reminders set years ago, the ones bleeping and blinking up at me accusingly from nearly every electronic thing I own.  I knew already from past experience that trying to do my day job today would only end in unmitigated Excel-tainted disaster, so I did not even bother trying to fulfill those obligations quickly mounting in my overflowing inbox. Instead, I kept myself as busy as possible with all the stupid little details of the day to day pandemically-tainted grind- masking up and going to the store, just to buy stupid shit that I really did not even need.  Or want.  A cursory cleaning of my little blue house, …

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