Category Archives: Whimsical

Something’s In The Air

I don’t know how it is in y’alls neighborhoods this afternoon. The streets, driveways, and yards are filled with visitor’s vehicles; crab boils, BBQs, quinceañeras, birthdays, and cumpleaños. Within a block of me, there must be at least ten parties and festive celebrations. The streets are scattered with kids absently ignoring everyone and everything, seemingly to fill all available spaces. Mexican, Marshallese, Salvadoreans, and yes, even boring white people with questionable sock and shirt choices animatedly chatter away the minutes. The combined cloud of music could only be played on a schizophrenic radio station. I don’t know who flipped the switch, but it’s refreshing. Collectively, mysteriously, this neighborhood got the memo that something’s changed.

Signed, The Dork

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I now understand what Steven Wright meant when he said, “I’m addicted to placebos.”

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True / Dumb Words:”Nothing is on fire, fire is on things.”

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“It can’t be so simple.””What if it is?” – Six Feet Under

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As I turned from the frontage road near the interstate and careened through the roundabout, I saw two small dogs scampering across the road on the expansive asphalt. I then realized it was two very small foxes, scampering. The lead fox had a varmint of some kind clutched between its jaws. As they hit the middle of the parking lot, the lead fox slammed the varmint to the ground. Since there was zero traffic, I stopped and watched as the two foxes danced around their breakfast. I’m not sure why there are so many foxes this year. Their sporadic appearance always brightens my morning. -March 31st

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I’ve had a run of bad luck my whole life. Even my Mom evicted me after nine months.

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I need some new podcasts to not listen to.

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It’s not working! The therapist recommended I go somewhere relaxing and meditative; perhaps go watch the tide for awhile. I’m feeling nothing here. \●/

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My therapist told me to do something memorable to start the day. I guess my “Cymbal Crash In The Morning” idea needs a bit of work. Almost no one reacted joyously. But Jim did throw his coffee cup 34 feet.

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Life can be majestic; I woke up, my face covered in slobber. My beard was so soaked that I started to look around for the German Shepherd that must have been in the room last night, licking my face.

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These last 34 minutes were the best 15-minute break I’ve ever had!*

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A Peek Behind The Curtains

The hubris of life, of majestic leaps atop a mountain, of impractical love. That’s why I made the picture of the woman leaping with apparent joy. I hope she is happy and that the moment was magical for her.

Once you’ve peeked behind the curtains of someone’s life, both warts and happiness, seeing the frailty you share in common minimizes the feelings of your inadequacy. There’s something to be said about knowing that the person who seems impenetrable is as uncertain or more so than you are.

For every boring life or person walking the sidewalks with a wide smile, there is another person who wears the smile and frenetic cloak of being busy as a shield. It’s often unknowable whether each person is truly happy. People are adept at concealment.

If we could hear the tone of people’s thoughts, especially those who seem to have it all together, I think most of our feelings of inadequacy would disappear.

We window shop when we are in the world or when we use these electronic portals to peek into other’s lives.

There is joy, laughter, and fulfillment.

There’s also pain, remorse, regret, and loss.

For every bite of anguish I experience, I know that the toll for others, though often invisible, burns them privately. I regret that our lives don’t allow us to drop the pretense.

We don’t know what rivers flow behind someone else’s eyes, nor do we really understand what ignites them. Some people craft an ornate and expansive wall around them, on to which they project the facade they want us to see. This is truer when the disparity of their daylight life grows distant from who they are at their center, in the shadows, in private, or in whispers.

It’s exciting to peek behind the facade and share that protected self. It’s sublime and affirming.

But the shriek and tenor that results when some do not want to acknowledge that you’ve seen their secret self? Though you’ve not wronged them, they flail and pivot with the agony of your having shared their inner monologue.

It often gets masked as anger.

It’s not.

Anger is the symptom. It’s really sublimated fear.

It doesn’t have to be.

It’s okay.

Some of us can be glad we experienced another facet of life, even if the ending was a surprise plot twist.

It is a gift to hold the truth of someone else in your own heart. Even if it lodges there like a dart.

Of that, I’m certain, even as certainty eclipses my grasp.

The foolishness of my own certainty came back to punch me in the gut. In time, I will forget the lesson, just as I did with the lesson of life’s urgency; it’s a lesson that can’t be explained. It must be experienced.

A Mixed Post Of Story and Trivia

1/4 of all your bones are in your feet.

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“Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.” – Internet quote.

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He stopped and stared at the long rectangular Target sign at the front of the parking lot. Though the sun shone brightly, the chill of winter still clung to him. His life had become one continuous transition. His heart felt the pull of softness and also the duality of the hardness needed to live a good life. Making choices always cut one’s life into disparate columns; a choice made inevitably rendered another to be toothless. Most people found themselves unable to keep regrets from spoiling their minds; restless minds fill with regrets of things both done and undone, attempting an impossible balance.

The horn behind him startled him. He laughed as he jumped, waving to let the other driver know he was sorry. It had bleeped a long, consistent tone. “Forward now!” it said.

Just like that, he did.

He left the indecision behind him.

“Be happy,” he said, to no one and to everyone. Like his car, his life lurched forward.

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I want you to feel this sentence in your head, to experience the soft agony of a fleeting moment accelerating past. Words are knives, yet sharp edges have utility. The smell of wood smoke in December, hovering above a blanket of quiet snow. The smell of Saturday morning bacon or salt pork, your grandmother’s loving fingers artfully guiding the pieces in the hot pan, her mind focused on the utility of feeding those she loves. The smile of a September bride, her eyes opened to only possibilities and love, miles distant from those tragedies that always befall us. The tap of a piano beginning its melody in the background as someone lifts a cold beer from the family table. A raucous laugh bursting from an amused mouth. The sharp involuntary intake of breath when beauty is within reach. The rush of saliva in one’s mouth with the first bite of fried chicken, a grilled hamburger, or bell peppers slightly charred on a grill. Words are knives, but they are also caresses, ones crafted for delighted eyes and open hearts, to be whispered into attentive ears and crafty mind. Everything is a moment to an observant mind.

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“When life gives you lemons, squirt someone in the eye.” Cathy Guisewite

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Did you know that a truel is a duel except that three participants are involved instead of two? Most people don’t. Invariably, if I use the word without context, most people don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. (It’s the same when I use the word “antepenultimate,” which means “next to next to last,” or “third from last.” It’s a handy word. P.S. “X” is the antepenultimate letter of the English alphabet.)

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He sat motionless at the window, his mind trapped in an alternate universe, another timeline, one in which he was essentially himself, yet immersed in the consequences of other choices. This day would have been substantially distinct, its eddies and currents carrying him far afield from his comfort zone. Tom Wingo echoed in his head. He knew that most people wouldn’t understand the complexities of a complicated life. The invisible and hidden worlds contained inside our own minds are within reach of us all; seldom do people share them, for fear of their essential selves becoming unraveled. It is precisely inside these private compartments of our minds that we reside.

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If I tell you, “J is the only capital letter that faces the left,” you might immediately recognize that it is true. Despite this recognition, most people will stop and take a moment to inventory the alignment of their own alphabet. And if your mind is wired like mine, you will undoubtedly assign another moment to inquire as to why this small fact is true. Surely, there must be a reason.

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Someone wrote me and offered this unsolicited advice. I rewrote it to this: “The best partner is both critic and fan, unafraid to alternate between the extremes of correction and adoration.” Can you imagine if this were to be true in your own life?

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Can someone tell me why “Leave by example” isn’t a better cliché than “Lead by example?”

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Curiosity has its limits. For instance, I often see a picture of a beautiful person and wonder how many minutes have passed since they REALLY let one rip.

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About 1 in 10 people regrow at least some part of their tonsils back after removal. This fact has always stuck in my head, no pun intended.

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I am 19,717 days old today. Yay!

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Bananas are still the most popular item sold at Walmart.

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People don’t sneeze while they are sleeping. If you sneeze, you will wake up before doing so.

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A couple of the rooms here are flooded with rainbows emanating from the prisms I have in the windows. It’s the first day of Spring here in the United States. The day brought a lot of sunshine, some of which reached my heart today. That is a welcome change.

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Of Course It Does

I had a story for this post. But coincidence and some unknowable force told me it wasn’t ready.

Instead, I paid the universe forward a couple of lemon moments. Each of them is curled up against my heart. As inscrutable as this description might be, I know you’ve had moments that aren’t really “anything” in themselves, yet swirl with movement and color.

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I hope that you’re reading this, looking at the famous meme template above, and picturing whatever it is in your life that you want and appreciate. The after is a precious gift. Please take a moment and find a way to place into your ‘now’ and be happier for it.

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I can prove I’m an optimist.

My car finally gave me trouble.

Went to the dealer and then got a ride to the car rental place.

Went inside to discover that no one has any rental cars.

Walked outside to see the courtesy driver as he drove away.

I laughed.

There’s hope for me yet.

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You know that you run in a tough crowd when you offer to ride in the trunk to save room and the vehicle owner says, “Nah, there’s already a body stashed in there.”

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I am a thin white cracker, which explains my latest nickname: Nabisco.

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I found Jesus. Worst game of hide-and-seek ever!

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As amazing as technology is, can you imagine the pranks & shenanigans in the future? Teleportation? Someone is going to wake up on the other side of the galaxy, or teleported to the inside of a lion habitat.

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When I was young, U2’s hit “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” was a visceral call to action. Now? It is recap of my morning.

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Dahmer Debate Observation: “You may indeed have the upper hand in the argument, but I have the other foot.”

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“You can’t judge a book by its lover.” -X
aka Rule Of Universal Association…

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The moment pictured above comes more quickly than we’d like to imagine.

Love, X

Wonder

For all the things in life for which I am grateful, none of them are things.

All are invisible, intangible, and irreplaceable.

A wise man once said that as one’s head aligns with one’s life, happiness is inevitable.

I sit, looking out the window, as the afternoon rain falls on February’s last day.

I sit, I wonder.

I sit in wonder.

A Moment

Of all things blowing through the wide alley as he walked hurriedly past, he found the pages of someone’s hand-written manuscript to be the most beguiling. He could only imagine who might have written the pages, each filled with tiny, perfect cursive lettering. What might be contained in the scrawls also remained a mystery. He enjoyed imagining such things. All the billions of people loose in the world, each trapped in the prism of their mind. He’d witnessed innumerable people with something to say rendered silent by the sheer force of fear; fear of sharing, fear of ridicule, fear of exposing one’s ignorance. For all the reluctance, he also knew that everyone shares the fundamental fear of expression. Silence is the most comfortable choice. As he neared the mouth of the alley and the dirty street beyond it, more pages blew past. An entire universe swirled across the dirty pavement. He didn’t notice the dirt—just the possibility. As the wind picked up, he walked faster. He had places to go.