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...
I know, I know, there's a million things I need to do. Every day, a million things. Check this, talk to him, to her. Don't forget to fill this out. Drive there, don't forget. Get it right the first time so you don't lose more time doing it twice. Or worse.
Only at the end of the day, is it legal to relax. Only when the world is on half-time, lunch break, dinner break, time out, penalty box.
The sun is one big green light for everyone. You can't stop when the world is go.
If I didn't want to...
A dry, sandy summer like this one. I had met him just a mile down, by the Shell gas station, his cowboy boots kicking up a torrid storm as he leaned against an electric pole and kicked a Pepsi can out of his way -- it rolled like a tumbling weed before coming to a halt at my sandal-wrapped toes.
I picked it up, sand and dust whirling around me, forcing themselves into the slits of my eyes. "Hey cowboy."
He looked at me and said nothing. He lured me in with absolutely nothing but an intense blue stare as...
They were trapped for seven days. God's work was able to be done in freedom: the dividing line between earth and sky, earth and ocean, the fecund fields with animals and birds, the oceans teeming with fish and monsters, the two legged animals - human beings - created to carry God's hope.
But the forces of chaos, of tohu and bohu, were chained for those seven days; trapped and kept away from the great work of creation.
There was order at work: chaos was trapped. There was fertility abounding: destruction was stayed. There was ingenuity in creation: blankness was put...
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...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She had just made it home. It was 11:58 p.m. The night would end in a couple of minutes, and with it, her glittering ruby gown, the silken slippers, and the jade hairpins keeping her silken locks in its elaborate up-do. But for now, she would savor the evening she'd just had: eating the most sumptuous food she'd ever had, mingling with the guests she'd once called neighbors, and most of all, dancing in the yellow throne room with the prince's half-brother.
the pumpkin
"Hello?"
There was nothing on the other end of the line but silence. "Hey, can you here me? Is anyone there?" Martin waited. "I didn't imagine it, did I?" He hung up. He grabbed his bag of food, and went outside, when he stopped for a moment, then turned back to the cash register and emptied it. Besides about $200 there was also an old picture inside, showing three women. Martin inspected the time stamp. Sept. 20th 1922. Just then, he heard a "BING..." as the atomatic doors opend.
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...
“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...