My Cardboard Balcony

It's been a week. I wish I could say it's been a great week. It wasn't. It wasn't even a good week. Yes, there were good moments, but there were also bad moments. Really, really bad ones. One of them including the loss of my family's extraordinary cat due to a really bad and sudden illness. I did have a decent Fourth of July. I had some fun on other days. I even got offered a job in Southern Marin, which is great, and it pays well, so if I take it, the main concern is going to be where and how I live. Including whether my sister gets the car or I do. But I feel absolutely "meh" about everything. That's right: The dreaded twenty-something apathy. Someone once told my sister that when it comes to your passions, the high points (as in the moments of enlightenment, euphoria, and total happiness in your life) only occur about five percent of the time. Every other experience is either lousy or just plain mediocre - and it's your job to make the...

Very Probably by Belinda Roddie as Freud would say: very probably he may have put the bullet comfortably in his brain. very probably she could have had sex on a water bed with a psychopath fresh from thirty years in a holding cell. do you feel swollen? out of breath? does your flesh recoil, the taste curdled like milk in your mouth? well, you'd best hope your id rests for at least a moment so you can wash the blood out of the sink because the hungry beast will very probably wake up soon. yes. The work you see here was written in  November of 2010. It was last edited on June 14th, 2012.

"C'mon!" whined Professor Harlot. "Be creative! Be determined! Everyone knows this exercise can be done with a little heart!" "Correction, professor," said Snarky (yes, I had given her that name; it was not her birth one). "Hearts just pump blood. I don't need more circulatory assistance to write this. I need a more awake and energized brain." "Then energize it, for God's sake!" "Are you a wizard, then?" demanded Snarky. "Or an idiot?"