Ten Million Pyre Flies

Indeed, you would not believe your eyes.

They lit up the dark as I fell asleep.

Ring around the rosie.

pocket full of posies.

They say that was about the black plague, other's say that posies wasn't even a word in English back then. And why did no one else make the connection until 1961? The cure, supposedly, turned out to be fire. They burned the city down. It chased the rats away.

Ashes, ashes.

We all fall down.

Tomorrow is another day. In fact, today is very nearly another day. And next week is another week. Perhaps that one will do as well as this one.

Io ti amerò per sempre. E tu a me?

By this skin of my teeth

Lately I find that my memory of media is getting confused. When I think about a book I read, I remember that it was read to me in a pleasant, anonymousness, female voice. On further reflection I realize that I had actually read all of those words in black an white. Or this web comic I found. More of a graphic novel, really. I remember watching the action as if it had been animated. And the imagined animation was of considerably higher artistic quality than the original.

This brings up so many questions.

Is this because I have an overactive imagination? Am I overly optimistic, always perceiving the world as being better that it really is and ultimately deceiving myself? Am I just worst at remembering things that I though? And why do I read to myself in my head with a woman's voice? That one is a little disturbing, honestly.

Oh, well. Happy New Years!

Said Reepicheep

"The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in? In your head, in your mouth, in your soul. And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old. Well I don't know. I hope so."

"Well that is that and this is this. Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed, when the ocean met the sky. You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye."

"As life gets longer, awful feels softer. Well it feels pretty soft to me."

If I can just make it out of my hole. If I can just escape somehow, then maybe i'll get to where I'm going. If I waist life, why wouldn't I waist the afterlife.

"I could buy myself a reason, I could sell myself a reason, I could hang myself for treason, oh, I am my own damned god."

The brush on lot must be cleared, burned, and washed before any construction can begin.

Mr. Song Writer,

build me a song.

Carve it from bone.

Make it long,

sad and strong.

Simon and Garfunkel say that monkeys stand for honesty. But, then again, they also say that antelope are missionaries. Antelope are not missionaries. That's silly.

Today I followed a rubber ducky. He led me two miles. He was wearing boxing gloves.

The Grilled Cheese Sandwich of Shame

I'll start the car, but we'll stay in park.

The cold can kill us before fumes.

Now is the right time for a good song.

Get something to say what can't.

Do you feel bad, like i feel bad?

Pour us a road . . .

. . .

Give me everything you've got now.

I don't feel a single thing.

Drag me out into the cold rain.

Let it hover over me . . .

. . . let it fill me up let it freeze let it break

something has got to give

Save Face, Brave Face

I once thought that the most comforting words that I had heard where, "There will be days like this." It meant to me that what's going on is not something that happens just to me, but it's something that happens to everyone sometimes. There will be days like these for other people too. It made me feel a lot less alone. It also holds the vague promise that there will be days that will not be like this. And some of those days might be better than this one.

Sire Shim

Brother Clide gripped his robe tightly as he climbed up the stairs. This sort of thing had happened before, but not quite like this. He hurried a round a corner at the top and stopped abruptly in front of a large wooden door. After a moment's pause raised his fist and gave a knock that he hoped was both respectful and urgent.

An exasperated voice from inside informed Brother Clide that the door was open.

"Sire, there is something that I think you should be aware of," he said as he stepped through the door.

"And what would that be?" the harsh morning sunlight through the large stained glass window made it hard to make out the face of the man sitting behind the desk. There was no other furniture in the office. Sire Shim did not want to encourage anyone to stay any longer than necessary.

"A child was left on our doorstep last night."

"So? You didn't think it was necessary to inform me when the Miller infant was left here last year."

Brother Clide tried not to grimace. He didn't know that rumor had gotten so far around. The mother had come to claim the child a few days later. He swallowed. Finally he said, "I really think you should see this one."

Brother Clide stepped aside and gestured into the room a tall, dark skinned boy.

The Sire looked up from his papers for the first time and leaned back in his chair. After a deep sigh, Sire Shim asked "What's your name, son?"

"Facundo," the boy said in a soft sharp voice.

"And what are you doing here?" the Sire continued.

"My mother wanted me to be raised somewhere I could get an education."

The Sire looked him up and down, "It looks like you've already been raised. How old are you, son?"

"Fourteen. It took us a while to get here."

"You're mother traveled fourteen years so she could leave you here?"

Facundo's face went cold and steely, "We traveled slowly."

The Sire studied him intently before saying, "I see. Can you sweep a floor?"

Facundo squinted, "I think so," he said carefully.

"Good. Go down stairs and find Madam Stiller. Tell her that she is to feed you and find you a bed to sleep in when you're done sweeping for the day." The Sire went back to reading his papers.

Facundo nodded, turned, and disappeared silently down the stairs.

Brother Clide ducked a little to try to get a look at the Sire's face. "So does that mean we're going to keep him here?"

"It means he's going to sweep the floor today. Then we'll see about tomorrow. Please shut the door firmly on the way out. It sticks sometimes."