A Day Late and 1000 Words Short

I’m stuck. But, I have been stuck before.  I have been stuck in strange countries.  I have been stuck in toxically bad relationships and their constricting borders of familiar addictive entanglements endured.  I have been stuck in good relationships, too, burdened with the accompanying responsibilities of unbalanced compromises and the one-sided sacrifices made to support the rotting foundations of a well-intentioned mistake that collapsed anyway, despite the best of my efforts. It feels like the rest of the world is stuck right along with me tonight.  Everywhere there is pressing, palpable hesitation.  There are the lingering unanswered questions regarding who is essential and who might be considered sacrificial in the grand scheming of an economy’s restart.  There are concerns about the hours, seldom accurately posted, but …

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Day 47: When Canadian Chicken Fly

I watched a beautifully isolated sunset tonight, shimmering a coppery gold and an infinitely indefinable red, through the last of the lingering storm clouds responsible for the most recent spring rains before it dissipated gradually into the depths of a far-off Midwestern horizon.  I sat alone on that grassy little hill overlooking the wistfully fickle creek that runs comfortingly by my small blue house and simply stole the time out of my day to just stop and watch the sky. It took a bit to try and ignore the mechanical sounds of the humming traffic, busy running their post rush hour pulse through the asphalt and concert arteries that help sustain the life and rhythm here in the City of Wayne.  But I finally surrendered myself …

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Day 45: Play That Fiddle Music, Fool

The City of Wayne is burning tonight. I can feel the claustrophobic heat of the ever-encroaching flames, sitting here under the dying gasp of the twilight’s last gleam.  I can hear the chorused coughing cacophony of a city’s choreographed death rattle rattling.  I can smell the cloyingly unique stink of the pyre’s smoke blowing in through little windows originally opened in a last gasp attempt to finally breathe free.  Little did I know that it would only let in the muffled wheeze of distracted bad decisions, sharpening the precision focus on the desperately unmet desires of a single solitary guilty man. Many mutual mistakes were made that night, behind the masked bandit kiss of a pandemically inspired stolen embrace.  Harsh lessons were learned hours after, blowing …

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Day 10

It is a struggle to find inspiration in a world without touch.  It is even more difficult to face the isolation of a life without love.  It makes the echoing emptiness just that much more claustrophobic, the passing hours that much more hollow and depressing.  The abandonment presses in hard and it festers here, polluting my thoughts and infecting my creativity, virulently.  It defines my newly mandated and officially locked-down day and I find myself dissolving slowly, and unapologetically, into that definition. It isn’t like I have never known love.  I have loved for almost the whole of my supposedly content and productive adult life.  And, in the lumbering wheeze of another overnight hour passing, it occurs to me that maybe that has been my underlying …

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