Too Many

There are. Too many pictures. Snippets of other lives and other times. I scroll down. But they follow me. Littering my piano top. I flip the page. But other images slip in. And take their place. Friends posing for the camera. Weary with smiles too wide and colors too bright for shadow dwellers. I cannot look.

There are. Too many people. Crying for attention or merely crying. I shut my eyes. But the light seeps in. Damaging my retinas. I shut my ears. But the voices will not cease. Shattering my ear drums. Humanity's dying gasp. Filtered through the defibulating heart of someone who once cared. I cannot help.

There are. Too many angels. Balanced precariously on the pin's head. I fold my hands. But my fingers still twitch. Wrinkled and arthritic. I bend my knees. But they fight the pew. Cramping from calf to heel. Deity's last prayer. Visited as acid rain upon the head of an unrepentant sinner-saint. I cannot believe.

There are. Too many questions. Left unaddressed and unanswered. I turn my head. But no one raises their hand. The class is dumb. I purse my lips. And the vacuum of space. Swallows my words. Cold matter's final pronouncement. Proclaims that history isn't a sieve, but an impenetrable wall. I cannot grieve.

Imperfectly Said

Perfection is an idea, not a reality. No matter how long or hard you practice something, it will never be done perfectly. Work to improve your performance, but accept your flaws. Inarticulation is the way of the world.

Like Love In Love

Like. Love. In Love. Three distinct states; frequently existing concurrently in the same heart.

Like. She appeals to me. I’m fond of her. I enjoy her presence. She has my eye.

Love. She’s dear to me. I care about her. I worry about her. I want to protect her.

In Love. I think of her passionately. I want to be with her. I want to touch her. I want her to care about me.

See what I mean. Separate, not equal. Like is fun, but sterile. Love is selfless, but terrible. In Love is selfish, but wonderful.

Observation from a Letter

Sometimes I wonder if communication between individuals is possible at all; if the thing done or the thing said is ever the same as the thing felt or the thing heard. I usually dismiss this notion as cynical and counterproductive, yet can find little definitive evidence to back up my optimism. I do know one thing, however: the greatest barriers between people are the ones they themselves erect. Attitude does more to separate one mind from another than any other type of estrangement.

Anchor Under Fire

Next on DATELINE NBC

Anchorman Brian Williams reminiscences with Katie Couric about his time in the Marines.

According to Williams, he's on the far right hand side with his back to the camera. . .

Merry Christmas with a Non-Archaic Pronounciation

Merry Xmas, Everybody!

"He knows when you are sleeping.

He knows when you're on the can.

He'll hunt you down and blast your ass

From here to Pakistan.

So. . .

You better not breath.

You batter not move.

You're better off dead,

I'm telling you, dude.

Santa Claus is gunning you down!"

Albert And Bill

Fat Albert confesses to tabloid: "Bill Cosby raped me after spiking my jello pudding and coke with roofies!" Says a distraught Albert: "I went to the police, hey, hey, hey and they told me cartoon characters couldn't press criminal charges against celebrities, hey, hey, hey. I hid my pain with food, food, and more food. Unfortunately, my favorite snack was jello pudding and coke." 

Friends Rudy, Russell, and Dumb Donald later confirmed the former child star's stories of gang violence and sexual exploitation and added some shocking details: "We all h-ha-hated playing n-na-naked b-ba-buckbuck with b-ba-Bill. He cl-cle-clearly had a th-thi-thing for f-fa-fat boys. Albert n-na-naturally took the l-li-lion's share of the a-ab-abuse."