Mayonnaise All Over Again

Casual conversations about when was the last time you saw your neighbor rarely end well.  No matter how non-judgemental the police officer's expression, you just know what he's thinking.

I'm not.alone in blame. There are other neighbors, waitresses, family, and even himself. In fact, let me rationalize away the guilt and say it was mostly his fault.  He could have made friends, volunteered, or introduced himself, but he didn't. or couldn't.

He waited two weeks for someone to miss him enough to check on him.  In the end it was a full mailbox that lead to my conversation with the police.  It was from them, after two years of living next to him, that I learned his name.

Again, not really my fault.  I just kind of keep to myself after work, don't really talk to anyone, never have my phone on, which doesn't really matter since no one has the number.  Nothing I could have done differently would have saved him from his fate.

Never Again Vol. VII

Nooo, that's how it's supposed to smell.

April Fool

Your joke here.

The Mayonnaise Chronicles

The last time we met I was divining the dribbles on a ham and american cheese. The most amazing personal insight, which now eludes me, wanting to nourish my soul. Not recorded, noted,  or published yet,but I'm living and thinking differently. 

Oh well, the mayo worked.

Sweetie Face Happens

Epiphanies are like toes they're always there, but you don't see them until you take off your socks, I took notice of my toes last week while squirting mayonnaise on a gas station sandwich. It's kind of personal, which is to say I'd like to say it just right, and tonight just isn't going to do it

Little Scraps of Attention

Last month, dimes wanted me to find them. Everywhere I went I picked up a dime. A sign I'm guessing. This month it's little scraps of paper in suitcases, jackets. backpacks, and bulletin boards all wanting to be found and every piece with a note needing to be read right then.



Some of the scraps were in folders neatly labeled "Once," "Ever," and the biggest scrapper, by my side for almost twenty years--all swirling around for my attention. "Here! Now!" they tug. I excitedly read and remember them, plot and imagine them. . .

I haven't been very happy lately, blamed on my annual bout of SAD, but now I think it's ideas having mid-life crises wondering what will ever become of them. Will I ever be a movie? A book? A phenomenon? I'm having a mid-life crisis of my own. Will I ever get a dog? Find the stability to create and finish? Remember everyone in my Nobel speech? I really believe I will and that's what  keeps me going until the big announcement in the form of a picture or possibly a link.


Two weeks seems about right to fix every little thing.

Stabilty

Stability is not "limited or no connectivity." Stability is a long walk iwth a friend. At this moment, battling the worst case of SAD ever, stability feels like trying to spot the fart in a tornado.

Tomorrow, the sun shines and maybe me.