Idol

Truth be told, I don't want to kill you.

For the last six months, you're all I've known.

I held you. Nursed you. Built you. Broke you.

But the time approaches, and I can't not kill you.

Not when we've come this far.

Just an early morning dumpster ponder

I marvel at people.

Like exotic animals in some far-flung zoo, I watch their behaviors, captivated, but completely unable to comprehend the actions. Each movement is a puzzle. Motivations? Wonders.

On mornings such as these, I feel a complete and utter detachment from my species.

It's not a judgement per se. Just a state of being.

And today that detachment was fostered by my once again magical dumpster.

Apparently someone was evicted recently...

I live in a nice neighborhood in a nice part of town with nice neighbors and a nice landlord. It's really nice.

Not cookie cutter, mind you. NICE.

But this morning, all of a neighbor's worldly goods languished by my magical dumpster.

One can tell much about a person by their worldly goods. The way I see it, the things a person chooses to surround his/herself with, in many ways speaks of that person's value system.

You can deduce so much from someone based on purchases or salvages. Based upon what is kept and what is thrown away.

And, my friends, I marveled this morning that my nice neighbor in a nice apartment in a nice community was living in squalor. Apparently of his/her own making.

...

I do not dust often enough. I would rather slaughter the innocent than have to hand wash my dishes just once more... but, my friends, I think it can safely be said that I maintain what I have.

I stil have clothes (and wear them!) from high school. I haven't had a new stick of furniture in years. My dishes date back to undergrad. I have pairs of socks that have lasted longer than poignant relationships.

I TAKE CARE OF WHAT I AM GIVEN.

It may not be much, but it's mine.

I like to be surrounded by nice (if not new) things.

My neighbor? Apparently not so.

The furniture was in ruins. Barely recognizable. Certainly not functional. And couldn't have been. Not for years.

There was a little pink couch. Tiny. Child-size. Hand embroidered with a tiny drawer for the keeping of a tot's most valuable possessions.

I would have cherished this. Loved it like The Bear Chair. This solitary piece of furniture - what stories wove themselves in with those little multi-colored flowers? And why were those memories so devalued as to rot long before their discard?

Without words, the wreckage by the MD spoke to me. It spoke to me of my difference. Of my separateness. It asked me - in the country blessed with the most by way of material wealth - why do some not see? Why do some not value? Why do some not cherish?

I do not judge my nice neighbor for eviction. I do not judge him or her for losing worldly goods. But I must admit I do not understand - and lack of understanding usually brings with it judgement - the carelessness and squalor with which said neighbor treated the blessings he/she had.

Because, rest assured my friends, if the nice day comes when my nice landlord has to put me out, my belongings will speak o a woman who valued vintage, family and old movies. And you best believe scavengers will be all over my shit!

Ahem

I only want to know what you think about me if it can somehow make me better. Otherwise, I'll thank you to kindly SHUT THE HELL UP.

Also...

"Life has a way of working things out...unless you're brutally murdered." - Kal Storch

Take A Walk With Me, Sissy

So...it's coming around again.

Your birthday.

22.

Today I wish you'd lived to be my age. And older still.

Take a walk with me, Sissy.

If I had any gift I could give, it'd be the peace that comes with discovering certain things. And that discovery process takes time. Time you were not given.

Sissy, you saw so much. And I am grateful. But it makes me sad you weren't granted the years of confusion and the subsequent, quiet revelations of "what it all means."

If I could tear it from my chest and leave it at your stone, I would.

It's the only peace I have, but I'd give it all to you.

I love you. That fact - like your life- never changes.

In fact, in a world of constant change, you remain ever the same. This brings me no comfort. I want you to change. I want you to grow. I want you to know.

Take a walk with me, Sissy.

Earlier this week, I had a chat with Cason. I couldn't love her more. It is not possible.

But as she changes, my heart aches. She hurts, but she grows. For you I want the same...

I know this isn't poetry. I've spoken more beautifully. And more intelligently.

But that's one of the thousands of things I've learned and would share with you. Eloquence...intelligence...they pale compared to sincerity.

Take a walk with me, Sissy.

Move with me. Walk with me. Grow before me.

And let me - for once - be the one to just lie still.

E for Effort

‎"It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious." Oscar Wilde

"I strive for charming. It's tedious." - Erin Greer

Lady Adelaide

"Now she's a bird with a broken wing,

she likes the ideas of things

more than what they are bound to bring..."

Funny

I can't believe it was you.

All this time and then...

Your voice. Your voice on the line...

Reaching Out

I just received this regarding my television show:

On 11-9-12, you did a broadcast with Jarryd Wallace. What is the best way to contact him. I too am a amputee, mine is above the knee. Whats more important is I too know about God's grace after 56 years. My story is one thats not as glamourous as Jarryds, as I did 25 years in prison before being paroled on 8-29-07. I found my salvation on 1-19-07 through Christ our Lord and Savior, and would love to share my story with him or any one who will listen to me. Please contact me at XXX.XXX@yahoo.com or call me at 770-XXX-XXXX.

A Moment to Gloat

I'd like to take a moment from the election to note that tonight's episode of my tv show is rather awesome, if I do say so myself. I'm pretty darn good at this "producing thing."

Dance, Monkey! Dance!

I love songs that tell me what to do.

It's like dance propaganda.

Baaaa

Like a sheep with horrendous taste in shepherds.