Taste is a matter of where and where you grew up. I am lucky enough to be born in a Country where taste can be seen and savored on a daily base and almost everywhere. Italy is made of taste; great taste, not only concerning the food, but it applies also to cars, shoes, clothing, manners and beautiful ladies. We all know what a man should do to make a lady feel great, isn't that considered taste? When we eat at home or at the fanciest restaurant on the coast do we know what wine is to be matched with...
I am looking out the window of my tiny house in Michigan and watching the snow pile up on the road.
I won't be going into town today, and I don't mind at all.
My dog is in a ball at my feet. The heat is on. I'm wrapped in a blanket. I feel so lucky in this moment to be alone here, to feel safe and to feel like I'm home and there is nothing to be scared of.
I think this morning I will maybe go back to bed. But I think later I'll read a bit, and...
I read a story today, a true one, about a young man who hung himself at the age of twenty-three.
His story was horrific. The abuse he received as a child ruined him both physically and mentally and, apparently, emotionally.
It is so sad to hear about loss of young, talented people; even more so when it's the result of unspeakable evil done to them by pieces of shit that deserve a hell that Dante couldn't possibly imagine.
Hug your kids.
Listen to your friends.
Be kind. Always be kind. There is help out there, but you might not think...
“We were thrown overboard, casted onto the waters left to our demise! They captured us, tortured our very souls mercilessly with wicked demands! ”
“No, I saw you guys, you had parachutes, and falling in the water were totally your own fault.”
“But we were held hostage, left in a God-forsaken tower all tied up with (mostly) nothing to eat or drink! Only when rays of the forgotten sun poked through the crevices of the sturdy wooden door, were we forcefully fed with the remains of frogs and sour wine!”
“Oh, you mean the balcony? Isn’t access to the torch...
She'd always come running when I called. I could have called her to come get a splinter out of my hand, to help me with my homework, to get me out from the tree in my backyard, or just so I could see her smiling face for hours as we talked. I was so use to this that the idea that some day she wouldn't come running when I called never even crossed my mind. I loved her with every single particle that made up my body.
At this exact moment though the only thought I could think was that...
In the long shadow of the afternoon i'm waiting for a friend. An encounter I've have been looking forwards to for the later half of the week. This week, like the many that came before has been long and tiring, but sitting here waiting I'm half in the next moment half in this. Patience is too offend wasted on events half enjoyed, this shell not be one of those experiences. Please oh, please. let it not be one of the those...
AwesomeAwesome. The goal is to write like the wind? I think not. Friday is a black day for productivity. This is illustrated in our hero, Freewrite. Optimism is a dying breed in Friday, where nothing gets done, and we must relax. we are constricted by it. Freewrite goes on a quest, to the edge of Friday, on a sacred quest to find Work Ethic, said to redeem the last Optimisms in the land. But the victory, my friends, is that Work Ethic is not found, but made. Hard work redeems Optimism, comrades. specially on a Friday, when I could eat...
"Saranghae."
His words made my heart stop.
"What did you say?" I whispered, not daring to look back at him.
" I love you Hye Jin. I said I love you. So please..Come back. Be mine." Sae Joon reached for my hand, but I quickly slapped it away.
"No! I..I'm not good enough for you. I have to leave. I have to get out of here." I stepped towards the plane entrance and held back my tears.
"You can't please!" Sae Joon fell to his knees and hugged my leg.
"Joon..Please don't make this harder than it needs to be....
Fault.
It wasn't mine. Maybe I lost the idea of whose fault it was when the map flew over the side of the ferry. Yes, it started to rain, and yes, it was I who had forgotten the umbrella at home, but it didn't matter, Damn it. We were going to have an excellent time, through no fault of my own.
The day went off as uneventful. We disembarked, walked along the road through town to a nice shanty-like restaurant on the water. We could look out over the marina and the moored vessels and smell the brine and brackish...
I was my own villain my own devastating ending
The back of the car has not been cleaned very well, candy wrappers, a dogs toy. None of it speaks to me today none of it means anything. I lie here and imagine stars, the smell of campfires, oceans, sex.
I was my own Hero
The parking brake sticks sometimes the left turn signal works but you can't tell from inside. Let it drift down the big hills, brake pads aren't free.
Run your finger on the fake wood grain, pray for rain, pray for peace. The trick is to let...