Earlier in the month, my resolution was to take up more healthy habits. I did, and I turned to gardening. So there I am sweating in winter, my back's killing me, my thighs feel like I've done 200 squats and I'm wondering if this is still healthy. But I forgot all that as I laid eyes on the seedlings trying to push up from the ground. It was beautiful: life taking place in front of me. I was already high.
And then Alfred Hitchcock's birds came. The other morning I found my babies, dead, their stalks jutting out like bones in a field of war. It was unsightly. I cursed at those stupid sparrows and I vowed that I'm going to feed their young to my snake while I do the opposite of work on the very very few crops that I'm left with. Not very healthy, I suppose.
Sleep is the girl who captured my interest with her doey eyes and returned the note describing her beauty with a look of a bitch. I like sleep but I'll pretend I don't need it, and she wants nothing to do with me.
Girls my age are getting married. Not only does marriage take away viable candidates from the dating pool, the very idea of it raises the expectations of the few other contestants remaining, who then want to look for "more" in a relationship, ruining the chances for many a men and scaring others shitless.
My 2 cents for the day.
one word... cougar.
ReplyDeleteI would say I want to go to a remote beach that looks like something out of a screensaver for a vacation. Rather than Times Square, New York.
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