Sentences About Things

The only way to win is not to engage.

Stand silent.

Safely thinking that we're better.  That we know better.

Meanwhile people continue to be terrible.  Subjectively, that is.

In the end we're all in the wrong.

So don't engage.

And win by being happy.

This is the story of the time

when we went to the store

to buy tea and coffee.

 --

We don’t actually drink coffee

but we love the smell of the beans

in the early morning when we wake.

Short sections of stories chopped up and blended together forming a mish-mash of plot, character, and conflict.

Every story has already been told and retold countless times - with changing details but stagnant themes.

The art of telling stories has to be flipped around and approached from a different angle.

The reader needs to be ambushed.

Pain and suffering are ok as long as we're not the ones who have to experience them.

We not-so-secretly enjoy the voyeuristic thrill of watching others in honest distress.

We're happy because we feel it increases our chances to avoid our own pain and suffering.

This is a fallacy, of course.

There is more than enough pain and suffering to go around. 

A young girl sat at an ancient wooden desk, drawing with the nub of a pencil she found in a shallow space between cracked floorboards. 

Tom pulled out the carpet knife.  It had been the best he could do on short notice.  The hardware store hadn’t had a ‘bladed weapons’ department - and Tom hated anything involving bludging.  Bludging was hard, and not at all pleasant. The only thing worse was strangling. Not only did that require a decent amount of strength and endurance, but it took forever, relatively speaking.  The carpet knife had been a lucky find - short but with a vicious hooked and serrated blade. 

She had that vision again yesterday.

A man appeared in her reflection and spoke to her in a surprisingly clear and melodious voice.

Clear and melodious, that is, for a hallucination.  

She stood on the bridge at midnight.

Her lips parted - a soft sigh escaping through the pain.

I don’t have forever to wait for you.

I have one day less than forever.

Fate may choose to deliver you to me on that day.  

   The day before forever.

But it will be too late.

We will fade away into the black.  An echo in the darkness of the universe.

As social networks grow, and the proverbial world shrinks, the importance of any one social interaction will diminish.

We'll be alone drowning in our digital 'friends.'

"Music is what feelings sound like?"

To me, this seems something of a silly, stupid statement.

Then an old song starts playing – reminding me of the first time I danced with my lover – and I cry.