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 78: A Hug That Changed The World

After a long weekend of participating in the protests still surging strong here in the City of Wayne, I knew that yesterday it was time to be a somewhat responsible adult and to try and tackle some of my day job responsibilities.  I promised myself that if I accomplished that, then I would after treat myself and head to the north part of the city to hit that new pub that had recently opened.  That would allow me the opportunity to tackle either some long-ignored editing chores, or if I was perhaps lucky enough, to maybe bang out a few new words.  Because yes, I compulsively take my typer with me everywhere I go. But more than anything, I wanted to enjoy a few pints properly …

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Day 75: Head In The Clouds (Of Tear Gas)

Thankfully, my city did not burn last night. But, we still marched. It began as a quiet and peaceful protest at the courthouse green, the nearly spontaneous gathering of a multitude of different genders, races, and generations from all across the City of Wayne, brought together in united solidarity to mourn the tragic murder of an innocent man.  It ended in a sea of misinformation, tear gas, and more arrests. The vibe was initially a mournful one, the chants of “we can’t breathe” and “justice for George” echoing hard off the court house walls, the universally American symbol of justice and unbiased decisions made for the sake of the common good.  For the briefest glimmer, skin color, economic backgrounds, and the other divisions far too often …

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flyover

Day 73: Flyover Follies

I really hate the term flyover country. And yes, I do realize that I have often used that particular phrase here quite frequently in the many fits of my quarantined literary insanity.  But that was intentionally conceived as my attempt to somehow reappropriate that offensive phrase, trying my best to gracefully redefine the once insulting connotations, and accompanying implications, that all the hard working people who choose to live in this part of the country are somehow second-class citizens, living hopelessly out of touch from the supposedly hip and happening world out on the coasts. That is just some either-coast elitist self-aggrandizing bullshit. Because so much real life happens here, every single day.  And those over-indulged oceanside dwellers do not have even the slightest inkling of …

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