Sunday, September 11, 2016


                                                    …in a land
of strung-out queens joining hands beneath
a roseate sky…
                                                  —Timothy Liu

Yeah, I left out the rest of the sentence, the
beginning and the end, which was a bit more
bleak (to say the least), but nevertheless a
gorgeous portrait (…where storm-tossed petals
vulture circled an ever-widening grave—) –  that’s
just the stuff that comes after the part at the top
of the page, and, see, even Tim couldn’t turn the
end of the poem into a complete sentence.  Due
to the apocalypse, I assume.  Which of course
could happen any day.  Could have already
happened.  Are we (meaning, am I) even here?
I try to remain hopeful, despite the despair.  I hate
being this; hate even relaying it to you in this manner. 
In fact, he word “HAPPY” floats over my computer after it
experiences five minutes of non-use – which includes the lack of
cat paws tip-toeing over keys, and/or her whole body hunkering
down on top of them (the keys of my laptop) for warmth, I suppose.
She’s even managed to change the name of my computer at least
twice (and no doubt has managed an email or two, as well, but un-
beknownst to me). I try to be.  Happy, that is.  The screen saver is
a reminder that I am, right?  Even my iPhone screams HAPPY when
it’s unlocked, which doesn’t take much – just a slide of a finger
across the screen: no fingerprint nor password necessary.  And
the screams come with an ice cream cone with colorful and seemingly
inedible swirls, too.  What have I to hide, anyway, (or what have I to relay
that the world, my world, that tiny ((and shrinking)) pond of whosits and
whatsits of whom I grow more and more skeptical every day...  Is
this one going to be just another user?  Is this one going to be an emergency
or will it show up should I have ‘an emergency’?  Is it unlikely...?)
that isn’t already out there, I mean. Who pays attention to it all
anyway?  A lot of people didn’t even finish that last sentence. 
It’s true.  And they even started it.  No one can be counted on. 
Most certainly not I.  How can that fact be sold in such a way
as to convince one (myself) that this fact is just another part of the
‘joy of life’?  Perhaps I shouldn’t go into advertising.  What a depress-
ing reminder of a life that could've been.  Even today, people confuse billboards
advertising the latest installment of X-Men, the one where the really bad guy
(I think he’s supposed to be a god, actually) is strangling Jennifer
Lawrence, with reality.  Well, his character is strangling her character.  They’re 
both just characters.  In a movie that most of us will see at one point, despite
the reviews.  To be fair, the bad guy is played by Oscar Isaac, but you can’t
really tell that it's him.  After all, he’s playing a god, not a human.  And Jennifer
is the blue mutant with scales: the one with ambiguous ties to both sides
(i.e., the good guys and the bad guys).  Maybe she…or, pardon me…
maybe her character, deserves to be strangled?  Well, nobody
deserves to be strangled, right?  So why the ‘feminist’ uproar, I wonder (or is it
just Rose McGowan)?  It’s just a movie with a couple of prominent women
included in its cast.  It’s just mind-deterring, if not thought-provoking
fiction.  Like my life, for example.  Yeah, right.  So, what's the fuss with
reality, anyway?    What is it, really?  
Peaches and love to all.