A Revival

Upon rereading this collection of useless thoughts and ruminations, I decided it's time to revive this obfuscatory endeavour. And British spelling.

What's your favourite color?

A Grievance

I hate the prepositional phrase "at the pump."

That is all.

Another Day- Back to the Same Old Place

Veiled eyes
Hooded with long lashes lowered

Chin tilted toward the floor.

A dejected boy quietly enters the room
And slips into his chair -
Wishing to remain unnoticed.

His usual sparkling eyes and eager grin -
Lost in the morning’s cruelties.

Boy, I feel your need to disappear,
Your desire for things to be different
And inside I rage.

Calm arrives on the image of my father’s face before me.
I see his sad eyes and serious, reflective face.

And yet, twitches of a smile are tugging at his mouth.
His deep, patient, calm, voice speaks,

“Remember girlie, the challenge is to keep your head when all around you are losing theirs.”
I’m refocused, comforted and reminded.

Boy, hear my father’s words and know that you too will prevail.

Contributed By Big M

What Would It Be Like...

If everyone sent all their unsent letters?

Again, written long ago, discovered today, posted unedited.

I'm beginning to think conversation is like the flow of blood throughout the body. Like blood flows through vessels to various parts of the body in different quantities and capacities, conversation flows through some sort of passageways to various people in different forms. You don't talk to your best friend the same way you'd talk to a prospective employer in an interview.
As time goes by without proper nutrition, vessels get increasingly clogged. Sometimes, the passageway gets completely blocked off. A part of the body starves and dies; conversation ceases and a human relationship ends.
Depending on where the clog is, collateral damage can occur. Just as if all blood flow ceases to the left arm and hands and fingers die as well, sometimes if conversation ceases and a human relationship ends, connections made through that relationship often deteriorate and die as well. The extent of the collateral damage depends entirely on where the clog occurs. If the aorta is clogged just after the connection to the heart, the entire animal will be starved of blood and die. This is a low risk, because so much blood flows through a buildup will have to be very resilient to clog the artery.
Sometimes, blockages can be repaired with angioplasty. A small balloon is inserted deflated into the vessel, then inflated to allow blood to pass between the clog and the expanded vessel. The risk in this is that the vessel is frail and ruptures when the balloon is inflated. Another method to repair the blockage is a bypass. A piece of blood vessel is harvested from elsewhere in the body and used to create a flow around the blockage.
But what makes clogs in the flow of conversation? I'm thinking it's unresolved issues and withheld statements. When you consider saying something, but opt not to for whatever reason, it creates a small buildup in the pathway. The more important the reason for withholding the statement, the greater the buildup. As more conversation tries to flow past this buildup, some gets caught up on this blockage due to similarity. If you refrain from asking someone about past relationships, you likewise would refrain from asking them details or occurrences pertinent to those relationships. As more and more statements are withheld, the blockage becomes more and more critical.
The tragedy lies when a blockage is the size where some blood still flows through, but at a highly impaired rate. Enough comes through to sustain life, but nearly all functionality is impaired. A person cannot walk but is mocked by the ability to wiggle a toe; a person stays alive in a coma as enough blood flows to the brain stem to regulate life but not enough to the cortex to facilitate consciousness. Superficial statements flow through the buildup, but not enough for a meaningful, fulfilling conversation.
The great problem with this is nothing is done about the blockage. Tissue does not die, so one would see little reason to take action. If the passageway is completely blocked, it is imperative to make a quick decision: operate, or just let tissue die. Maybe a fingertip is not worth operating on to save. It's not worth the trouble. It's easier to just let it die and go on with life with a few alterations.
Say it is deemed pertinent to operate-- flow an entire arm is compromised. The operation is extremely difficult and not guaranteed. Despite everyone's best efforts, the arm may still die. But, some would argue, at least they tried.

Written Years Ago, Discovered this Afternoon, Posted Unrevised

There's something special about the notepad.
There's no tabs to get lost in, no toolbars or margins to distract you. There's just you and the page.
You and your words.

Everything extraneous and ornamental is gone. True art of words needs nothing but words.

An airplane coasts lethargically down the runway. With lights flashing, 2 fire trucks, an ambulance and a miscellaneous airport authority truck follow. They too are in no rush. The parade drags by with seemingly no purpose but parading.

Flashing lights usually fly. Emergency response vehicles never waste time. With sirens blaring and horns blowing, time hardly passes as they speed by to their destination.

On the runway, the parade continues in its infinite loop. As time lulls by, the truck third in line gets neither closer to nor further from the truck in front of it. The plane is oblivious to the goslings behind it.

Everything goes easterly. There must be something horrid to the west. Maybe there's an inextinguishable fire advancing eternally eastward. Like woodland creatures, vans and trucks and people casually migrate away from the horror. Fires can't run. The best defense is to keep moving. Never stop.

Everything will stay safe as long as you just keep going.

The star alliance remains defiant. Facing west unmoving, the star alliance conveys an uncommon strength. Or perhaps stupidity. It's unfortunate something so noble will be consumed by something so sterile.

The parade has lost it's plane but has still doubled in size. Six yellow fire trucks, an ambulance and one black anonymous van with lights flashinghead west with a clear purpose. As soon as they are out of sight, they return heading east with the miscellaneous anonymous van in the lead. The Fire must have been too much to handle.

"Grace has another hour." The ambivalence of everything is excruciating. With destruction precariously looming, no one cares whether they're consumed or spared.

The skyline begins to move. Above the treeline cranes and towering structures drift easterly. It must be a great Fire indeed.

They say the end of the world will come with a bang. They also say the world will end with nothing but a whimper.

On the morning of the end of the world, the trashman will still come. Professionals will pack their briefcases and drink their morning coffee. Trains will load and depart on time with their regular schedules; airports will fill and empty and fill again as people try to get out of here by making
here somewhere else.

The end of the world will come and every one will be so busy drifting east they won't even notice.

There will be the few who race west to fight. They can't stop the end of the world, but their end will come trying to extinguish the inextinguishable.

Only the star alliance will stand fast, gazing westerly, embracing the approaching Inevitable in its last moments of strength and nobility.

Because I'm 12 and Found This Funny (And Have too Much Time at Work)

No thawing needed!

Because I Have Too Much Free Time At Work

I hope you remember/like all this, Sterb.

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