1941 a musing about being good to our own self.

It was, as it were, a date that will live in infamy.  Outside the door, I said to my familiars, "Imma go ahead and ask Jesus to forgive me for what I'm about to do."

Across the thoroughfare, the leprechaun was trying to talk like a woman, and to what end?

But my own ends, as ignoble, "This isn't going to be pretty."

slippin' away

sittin on a pillow

waitin' for night to fall...

We are most difficult many times, on our own person, moreso than those who truly devalue us, like a former president slumming at tax time, why, we are Deutsche Bank with people who do us harm, and we never snap out of it, why do we care?  I initial the document, holding back Richard from jumping over the desk, all the while it on the tip of his tongue to say we should draw Gambit from the X-Men, but here, all I have on my mind is canteloupes, oranges, parmesan cheese and stuff, trying in vain, to rise above, overcome, drown-out the noise, and the very gist of the thing, was that there was some idea on the boil.

I initialed the document, and the soup of intellect could not deter me; Richard the crazy fool had not leapt the desk, my hands-free lying on the desk, that he might crunch it underfoot, the crazy fool.