The Road Revisted

I'm afraid of dying this way. Alone in a big house, with the lights on, with complete blackness outside. I'm consistently afraid of being the last person alive in a suburban nightmare. It's strange, I feel much safer in a city downtown than in the tree-filled outer layers. When I was young my bedroom window looked out on a 6 lane highway, so that was probably an influence. There's just something that terrifies me about my neighborhood, even though I can easily see into the house next doors' window. It's just not close enough.

EAS

From the Baltimore City Emergency Alert System:

The suspect may be wearing unknown clothing

Interesting Only To Me

Which is ok since no one else is reading this.

My top 3 most frequent dreams:

1. My parents get divorced. After I wake up from this dream, I end up calling my mother and confirm that this is not actually happening.

2. The apocalypse. It's always some kind of infectious disease. This usually means I run away from people throwing up on their stoops and on the subway.

3. I'm in school, and the bathroom is a bunch of open air toilets. No stalls, just rows of toilets. There is no end to my shame and embarrassment as I am forced to use a toilet openly in front of many other kids.

Less Depressing

Really depressing

from annie dillard: "how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."

I think about this all the time

old haiku

Saying hi

to those lobsters

great idea

Late Night Musings

The cicadas sound outside

Inside

The fan doesn’t penetrate

Its wind bounces off hollow metal skin.

Oh to be a caterpillar,

A fated destination – the cocoon will determine me

All I do is curl up and the rest, well we’ll see.

Crack open this shell, I beg,

Like a kinder egg, it will be a surprise

But kinder eggs are always disappointing, their parts get lost

And the cheap plastic allows its paint to chip off

And the egg itself, well that chocolate is no good

And too penetrable.

Caterpillars would not do inside a kinder egg, for who they are to become

Is too easily compromised.

How good it feels when it’s late and our minds are full

But really

Like a bunker, we hide inside

Waiting

Soon this war of sorts will end,

And all to do is open a door

Where a snowy field awaits.