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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misterrodgers

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

It is abundantly clear that over these past 25,000 or so words, so earnestly written and spilled out unabashedly throughout these front two months of an unexpected pandemic’s first wave, that I have a profound propensity for the ponderingly introspective.  That I far too often turn the night hours back in upon myself, focusing hard on the catalogue of my many experiences and misadventures, all for the sake of hopefully capturing some words somewhat meaningful in their candor. And I used to see that, through eyes both bleary and more times than not, tragically hungover, as my biggest fault.  Now, though, I am no quite so sure. Not when the world- at least my favorite part of it- is still locked down behind masked barriers and …

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Ponyboy

Ponyboy Never Listened

Last night I ventured out into the partially opened city of Wayne, just to take a drive and check out the unlocking scene unfolding firsthand.  I couldn’t face yet another night trapped inside my quarantined routine and honestly, with the road humming under the tires and the music pushing out limply from the factory bland sound system, it simply felt good to just move again.  Even if I didn’t end up anywhere in particular.  Even if I did end up risking it all just for one night not tethered to my typewriter because at least getting infected would be something different and new to experience. As luck would have it, I landed at a familiar haunt just barely open and somehow still getting by.  But, the …

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peanutbuttercup

Day 57: Apocalypse Now

This isolation is killing me. And not in the lofty, metaphorical sense, but rather in the ultimate repercussions of my choices sort of way.  Those choices made to get me through just one more damn night here alone, inside this little blue house so strategically nestled near the heart of this lumbering and hesitant City of Wayne. Most of my dietary considerations these days seem to be nugget based.  And the last time I checked, a nugget isn’t generally considered one of the basic four food groups by anyone above the age of nine.  But it is one now, here on this lazy edge of a world collapsing in upon itself.  Because why the fuck not? Why not just lean into it and have a dinner …

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