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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buggy

We Can’t Stop Here, This is Buggy Country!

I spent the majority of today out on the back roads of my county, dodging the thunderstorms rolling in unusually hard from the east and the clip-clopping traffic of the black buggies full of grey beards.  There was no particular destination that I had in mind, other than to just… move.  I just needed to steal a clear breath free from the stagnant air of isolation and to see myself somewhere other than my couch so precariously poised to hold the indentations of my body permanently fused into its fading fabric. With time to kill free from a virus trying its best to kill me, I set out in search of both some clarity and some perspective, two qualities I have found running so low through …

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burningheart

Day 64: It Was Another Dark and Stormy Cliché

My city of Wayne burns quiet tonight. The skyline stands distantly muted, not illuminated bright in the hopeful colors once shining down in a comfortingly familiar palette through the gloom.  Maybe it is the persistent haze of the unnecessary recent spring rains, soaking the city grey and threatening to anger the creek gods.  Perhaps it is the grind of this expensively lingering isolation finally catching up, the bills coming due because even though the world might be soon end, apparently the electric bill still has to be paid on time under threat of another tangible disconnection. Whatever the reason, it is so very here dark tonight. At least there are always the beers and other little helpers conveniently on hand, consumed shamefully in the shadows of …

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wino

Day 60: In Vino Veritas

I think this isolation is really starting to get inside my head.   It seems to stick there indelibly, like that unseen masticated chewing gum clinging annoyingly to the soles of my best pair of shoes right before that hastily planned and spectacularly doomed blind date that I just did not see coming.  Intrusive.  Frustratingly unsettling.  Cloying.  And, just a little bit gross.   Strange thoughts here on this nervously quarantined night in the high City of Wayne.  And for some reason, they just won’t stop.   The adulterous temptations of an Alice’s deceptive muse calls out her siren songs of mixed metaphors and intentional dishonesty, enticing me with her seductive rabbit-holes, so temptingly approachable in their comforting lies.  They promise me the benefit of a …

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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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