silent outside. restrained voices
and murmur or muffle of sound.
incoherent. beating irregular.
inside. behind the transparent walls,
shutting out the silence, I scream.
Shrieking. Clawing. Gasping.
Glass breaks. Metal crumples.
Concrete crumbles. Water violently sloshes.
Am I really here? Still?
One of my pet peeves during this most reflective time of year is when people recite some configuration of ‘New Year’ but with an ‘s’ added to the end.
Don’t stand so close to me while I’m writhing and breathing
This just in – Atlanta traffic is absurd and has me seething
She’s chewing with her mouth wide; maybe she’s still teething
The public education system in the United States? Okay, I’m leaving.
The rules are not the same for everyone. This has become increasingly real for me over the past few years. Sometimes, I feel like I’m in a weird Bizarro world where up is down and right is wrong. But I dare not mention this unsettled nature to those around me, for I will be singled out as an agitator or a troublemaker. Or maybe just stupid.
“The Emperor’s New Clothes” is a short story I recall from my childhood. It was written by Hans Christian Andersen. These two weavers promise an Emperor a new suit of clothes that will be invisible to any of his subjects who are stupid, incompetent or unfit for their positions. When the Emperor parades before his subjects in his new clothes, everyone comments on how lovely his new clothes are, for fear that they don’t wish to be singled out as unworthy. But amongst the deceiving crowd, an innocent child is confused why so many people are complimentary of clothes that the Emperor clearly is not wearing, so he cries out, “But he isn’t wearing anything at all!”
Lately, I’ve been feeling like that kid. (sigh)
I love cop dramas and thanks to Netflix I can watch The Wire, The Shield, Dexter, Southland, Flashpoint, or whatever whenever I have the time and desire to satisfy my ‘fix.’ This past weekend I was watching one of the aforementioned cop shows and the theme of one particular episode was ‘hate crimes.’
Anyone who knows me, knows that I love words.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas and I’m listless
All signs point to chocolate hearts and lust terribly encrypted
The optimistic side of me wanted to sing the words “walking in the rain” to the tune of “Singing in the Rain” as I walked home this evening. All I could utter (in the spirit of Charlie Brown) was, “Rats!”
A long, seeming unproductive and frustrating workday coupled with rain and Atlanta traffic in the rain should have been enough. Actually it was enough. Enough for me to consider the haven that home would be once I got there to exhale and shower and enjoy a warm meal. It should have been enough. My pissed off car didn’t think so.
This evening as I waited in a long line of cars at a light for 30+ minutes because some fool (or fools) didn’t want to heed driving more careful in the rain, my beloved car decided to garner for attention.
Steam in the front.
“Maybe that’s from the rain?”
More steam in the front.
“Maybe the exhaust from the car in front of me?”
Loud POP! Temperature gauge goes red. Smoke or steam or…
“Rats!”
Several more miles to go before home but I safely park my car in a lot and walk the rest of the way home. In the rain.
Now I’m home and I’m going to exhale, shower, enjoy that meal, and then ride my bike back to my car in a couple of hours to see if all can be restored… or at least hauled home. Rats!
