I’ve Decided to Live.
“Repeating the same behaviors despite getting the same terrible results isn’t the definition of insanity; it’s the definition of despair. “
“Repeating the same behaviors despite getting the same terrible results isn’t the definition of insanity; it’s the definition of despair. “
All hail the fatties and the butterfaces and the loud mouthed sluts! For upon their crooked and unlovely backs, a nation was built.
He said “Three days might be long enough to save you.”
Pioneers used buffalo turds for fire fuel, y’know. They had too, there’s long stretches of treeless-ness in the middle of America. But “buffalo chips” are Nature’s Duraflame logs. Grass digested, compacted, dried by sun with a spark friendly infusement of methane perhaps…the words of one pioneer diarist I’ve read said “You might think it unpleasant,…
“Redneck.” My daughter asked me what it meant. I’d never been asked that before. And I’d never known the answer til I said it. “It’s a derogatory slur for the poor and working class.” It’s a word for someone who likes different music than you do. It’s a word for people who couldn’t or…
I have a deep abiding love for convenience stores. They are clean and succinct. They don’t require anything extra of me, neither bra nor brush, conversation or confrontation. They give me protein, caffeine, and those pillowy “Bon Appetit” cream danishes that can set the worst of worlds to rights. There are lots of convenience stores…
Barb and Mr. Barb (in two years, I’ve never heard his name) have been good neighbors. They made peace with our dogs and children and the constant brutal cacophony of “memories being made” and “vengeance being wrought on the weak” that comes constantly from our side of the fence. Mr. Barb doesn’t talk except the…
And don’t we all have our gashes. That wound that is just yours, in your secret tender spot. 100 people, poked in that particular place, might wince, might slap away a tiny sting in irritation. But you, you can’t stand even the thinnest chafe, the warmest puff of wind. The nerves are inflamed, torn muscles…
It’s not a “bucket list.” It’s my Rockstar Dreams. The fantasies I lived inside as a kid, clear into my twenties. I lived inside my head and though the rest of my self suffered for it, my health, my relationships, my strength of character, the interior of my skull was nourished and rich. I wanted…