My Cardboard Balcony

Another week ends, and I find it kind of funny how my mindset can change in a matter of a few days. However, one thing continually lingers in the air: Uncertainty. And let me tell you, humanity's uncertainty and irrationality about everything gives me all the fodder I need to write. So first off, a big update this week: I have a job now. ...Well, I don't have the job quite yet, but I was offered the job. I just finished up the drug test and they'll be doing the background check on me and then I'll have a job. ...Well, not a permanent job, but a seasonal one, and hey, best to start somewhere. Lord knows whether or not it'll become permanent. What's the most interesting about my reaction to this chain of events is that - really - I'm not changing my routine much. Yes, my schedule will be riddled with day or evening shifts (most likely both), but I'll still be doing the things I regularly do. That includes my writing routine. That's not changing any...

Meaningless by Belinda Roddie He can't drink coffee unless a piano Is playing in the background. He writes in a little book when someone smokes on the corner; the smell is pleasant. He watches drunk fights while he listens to Succulent love vows, and all at once he wonders Where on Earth the point lies here, And he finds nothing. He must have lost it When it roamed into his mind's realm And was never seen since. The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since April of 2005.

A convict was convinced that the crook in a cell close by was not criminal. He coughed out a column of complaints to a colonel coming by to visit. That column was copied for the common crowd, and they all came to the conclusion that the convict was correctly convinced.