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Zephyr

The details will kill us all. The number of things that one has to remember on an average day is staggering. Like this morning : I was packing my lunch and I suddenly remembered that my rent was past due. "Broccoli!", I thought, " I completely forgot about it." Tangent: I've always thought that it is the act of swearing, and not the actual swear word, that gives us the release. Half the time, what we say when we are swearing doesn't even make any sense in context of the object we are swearing at. So, I think, if said properly, any word can make a good cuss word. This had prompted me, in recent times, to try to move away from my favorite D words (dang, darn and damn) to the new B word - Broccoli! This works fine - especially if I emphasize the first syllable. There was still the problem of the C word (crap) - what with WTC being an oft used expression. Broccoli just didn't go with it. Neither did squash. What the squash!? What the Squash!? What the SQUASH...
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Plaudit

And on to the next post. Massachusetts, in an attempt to keep driving fun when there's no snow and salt on the roads, has rotaries. What are rotaries? They are roundabouts or traffic circles. I think they should be called newbie-traps or HonkFests. So Mass folks added rotaries to their roadways. And, on a whim, they decided to do away with the yield signs. Until some guy in the Roads and Traffic Department(which itself was voted out of MA in early 70s, I believe), came up with the bright idea. He said: "Why remove them when you can place them in highly ambiguous positions around the rotary?". "'Tis true!", said the wise men of the council, nodding their heads. And thus came to be the yield signs. One is never sure if one is the yielder or the yieldee. Actually, that seems like a pretty deep, philosophical statement. "Who is the Yielder? Who is the Yieldee?". Anyways, back to fun and games at the rotary. When I first started driving around in MA an...
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Metronome

I'm chasing after you in the gathering dusk, you're racing far ahead, fading into the sunset. Can't catch up to you, can't hold on to you, always looking back, wondering when I first lost you. And this sand in the hour glass, it's rushing fast. This river of continuum, it gushes past. The clock unwinds, the moon tugs the tides, while I'm caught in between what was and will be. So I'm letting go, I'm tired of the chase I'll find some peace in this moment's embrace. Just take my hand in yours, let's run to the daybreak and burst into this life, finally awake. Finis
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