Still feeling it, just change the names

The year of the ignore

Been quite the year of not being able to get things done. I swear I have shown people a stack of money, said can you do this reasonable and legal thing for me, and I get a slack jawed stare, or no response.

The latest involves my wife and I submitting a shit ton of paperwork and other documents that were demanded of us. Now that said paperwork is in their hands, nothing. Despite asking where we are in the process there has not been word back.

I'm of mind to go to the company facebook page and make sarcastic commentary on all their postings of motivational quotes.

The Vietnam War doc is turning into an eighteen hour edition of the Big Chill. It's quite informative and the use of the North Vietnamese soldiers is a side I had no idea about. The music is a bit too obvious and heavy handed for my taste.

Maybe by the time this documentary reaches its conclusion, we'll get a call back. Or we'll take our business elsewhere, as has been done more than a few times this year.

Angry so I wrote a poem

Revisionism, erasure, implied book burnings, not a fan. My Son hates ceiling fans, he has to be aware if they are on at all times. We have two in the house. There is one in our bedroom that he looks at every morning just to make sure it is not moving. The other is in the back room, where I'm typing this on a warm spring day in Columbus. When he was in the kitchen earlier he stared at the back room to make sure the ceiling fan was not moving closer to him. It's not.

There used to be one in his bedroom, but that was taken out shortly after he was born and replaced with a dimmer until that he broke as soon as he was able to move the switch.

None of this has much to do with the poem I wrote today, but it's still Autism Awareness and he's still singing at 6AM after not getting to sleep past midnight. Happy Easter.


Burn me out of your brain and see what replaces me

Erase me, revise me out of history
Ignore me, drop me, block me
Invite me nowhere, trip me in the aisle
You want to roast me
Tell me more about roasting
Avoid me, befoul me
You want to roast me
Put me in your oven
I step on pressure cookers daily
You want to roast me
You want to roast all the dudes my age
When we become shoveled ashes for you to dance upon
who will you find to roast next?
Tell me more
I will show you ovens demand fuel
Who will you roast when you reach my age
Fires are thirsty they need asses after
my old ass gets roasted
Prepare for your search, your hunt for purity
I have the means for you to forget me
It’s cheaper than you think

Why I am an Asshole

The scene: A red light at North 4th St. and Long Street.

[Our driver is stopped at the light. He is in the far right lane Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone waving at him from the car to his left. He rolls down his window.]

"Do you know how I can get to [an address on Town Street, but it sounds a bit garbled]

"Did you say Town Street? It's back that way [waves in a southerly direction] get to High Street and turn left."

"Ok thanks."

[The light turns green, as there are cars parked in the lane in front of him, our driver needs to get one lane over to his left, he turns his signal on...

and the driver who he just gave directions to refuses to allow him to merge into traffic, and leaves our driver stranded as he waits for a long line of traffic to pass before he can proceed north, muttering many obscenities at the world around him]

- scene -

Life in Hyperlink Freewrite

I got a link.
You got links.
I got links.
Someone else has links.
You have links.
That doctor has links.
I got a link.
A link to a lawyer.
You got a link.
I got links.
You got links.
That link is funny.
My link is not credible.
Your link is out of date.
You see this link?
I have not seen that link.
Where did you get that link from?
You got a link.
I got a link.
And together,
between all our links.
We have a blank page.