My Cardboard Balcony

Today, I went to work. I taught classes for three different students. I discussed everything from time travel to the food industry to the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder. I got Chipotle for lunch. I took my car in for a service and learned that my tires are almost entirely worn down and need to be replaced. I walked in the rain with my mom and her dog, and we met with my dad and two of my parents' friends for wine. My brother drove me home since it was too risky to drive my car, and I changed into my suit and my new vest that I got from Historical Emporium (seriously,  check them out . You won't regret it) while my wife put on some make-up and a lovely dress. Why? Because we wanted to dress up for a wonderful dinner at a French restaurant in the next town over. There was steak tartare, butternut squash soup, salad, and steak frites with Roquefort butter. There was red wine and the latest rounds from the Australian open playing on the nearby TV. There was good conver

Turn Off The Noise by Belinda Roddie All bluster eventually leads to bellowing. Then screaming. Then static.

Here we have the madman, standing at the podium. He screams threats and obscenities, and the meager audience cheers. They wear red hats and stamp their feet and gesture to the wind, taunting the spirits and daring them to change the course of time, to change the course of history, which never, ever ends. The madman is strutting. He's grinning at his prize. In perhaps a year, the world will change - the colors will all dim.