What kind of man are you?

Can I combine 26 letters in enough ways?
Will 100 trillion synapses firing away suffice?

Towels, dishes, sandals, and all the other ordinary things in our lives reveal what we are made of more quickly than anything else.

Oswald Chambers

my hand shakes as i hold the phone to my ear

"damn, what the hell."

the phone rings.

i wonder if it's from punching the tree.

no, all it left was a quick cut. already scabbed over by the time i got home.

maybe it's because my stomach feels like it's being held by a wood clamp.

grinding clock-wise. it feels like it's twisted three times over. nah.

it's only causing the pizza to inch up my throat. it's pretty close to dancing with my tonsils.

it won't be a pretty dance.

maybe it's this damn head cold. i swear sweat and wind chill do not mix well.

too efficient. like turning on the AC during a winter storm. eff my life is all that throbs.

it does feel like an eight hundred pound gorilla is gripping the back of my neck and my forehead.

son of a bitch won't let go.

at the end of it. i think what really makes my hand shake, and my nerves all wound up

are these mother bleeping thoughts swirling in my head. i swear, it has to be the fifth five-minute round. we're closing in on the last minute. waiting for the paddle-clap at ten seconds.

feel about ready to submit to these bastard thoughts. or maybe i'll come through

like anderson silva when he fought chael sonnen. just give me a few more seconds.

yeah. that's it. i'm gonna knock his ass out.

the phone stops ringing.

"hey, ted! you called?"

5 Months

In an effort to prepare for the desert

I collect droplets of water

How precious each splash

that will sustain me and save me in drought

It's because of these morsels called memories

that with you, I'll be able to live without

I don't like hearing and reading phrases like "RIP Phone" or "I looooooove food!"

The reason I don't like it is because we mingle something so weighty, words so great to trivialities. I suppose we have come to a point in our culture where material loss is just as bad as emotional, physical loss of loved ones. What words will you reserve for your best friend's epitaph? We've also reached the waistline and sheer lust for food that we will say "I love food" with 23 o's. There will be no more O's left over to say you l_ve your wife.

I want to make an effort to not think, talk, or live this way: placing lofty meanings to complete frivolous bull crap. Don't let them hold hands. One will soil the other. Let me reserve real words for real emotion, real tragedy, real success. Not food, never to phones.

The requirements of a soul are high

Neglected souls can do nothing but shrivel

They will shrink to the size of marbles and fruit flies

Indestructibly hard and prone to suck on rotting food.

Sometimes one needs to ask the question:
What the hell are you trying to prove?

I hope you don't mind.

I itch to spill it all here, instead of keeping ish bottled up inside.