Terrified of telephones and shopping malls and knives

69

by Philip Schultz

This morning I'm tired of the same newspapers and arguments.
I'm tired of sticking the same legs into the same pants,
the same hands poking out of the same sleeves, going west
and then east, heating up the same tea, watching the same sun
rise over the same horizon, the same trees shedding the same leaves.
Tired of climbing the same stairs to look out the same window
at the same street, tired of shaking the same hands, opening and
closing the same doors, dreaming the same dreams, saying hello
good morning happy birthday I'm so sorry please forgive me.

In homage to a torn piece of paper I found in some luggage nested into some larger luggage that reads, "I'm sorry, I love you. Please marry me."

And all this bowing in reverence to a light-hearted quip heard on Parks & Recreation:
"Whenever a couple marries, two single people die".

I'll try anything three times

I.Love.This:

www.yearof52adventures.wordpress.com

Campaign to undergo 52 adventures in one year (one per week).

Game on!

Now that I've met you, would you object to, never seeing eachother again?

I think we should all sing in union. Always.

Meaning, as found by Myndi

An old friend Myndi posted this on her blog and I couldn't help but pay homage to it here:

Advent Calendar of Christmasy Activities

Everything is just so lovely.

Forgive Me Lover, For I Have Loved You Wrong

When in search of all things lovely, please, do defer to these two:

See the cat? See the cradle?

Solitutde: A Sweet Absence of Looks

Depression, when it’s clinical, is not a metaphor. It runs in families, and it’s known to respond to medication and to counseling. However truly you believe there’s a sickness to existence that can never be cured, if you’re depressed you will sooner or later surrender and say: I just don’t want to feel bad anymore. The shift from depressive realism to tragic realism, from being immobilized by darkness to being sustained by it, thus strangely seems to require believing in the possibility of a cure.
-Jonathan Frazen

I'm still listening to hear where you are.
And certain these words are fleeting and unseen.

Today is a day to discuss with few. I can't concentrate. I can't sustain the hope so oft found in these entries. I'll likely delete this with humility, but for now I wish there was just one respondant with some understanding.