" 'You should go to South America,' Mr. Hugo said to him. 'The rock-n-roll hair, the English — they believe foreigners're better over there — you will fit in my friend.
" 'Can you sell everything? Just go. You've got to go now, before you end up here forever.'
"Convincing.
"He types it later."

Time out of hiatus for a friend

Last night, I lay in agony over all kinds of angst and shit. But I got a text with some great news that changed it all. My good friend Mrs. Dilmore got the best news anyone can get: a clean bill of health. Makes everything seem so simple in comparison.

To celebrate, here's a little proof that there is a God, and his name is Steve Vai. You can thank me later.

Sentimental Sunday

You wouldn't believe the week I've had. Seriously. ... I wasn't arrested, nor did anyone ("ain't anybody..." (a little colloquialism from yester-year) die(..."). Excluding those, what didn't happen to me?

I get a little wrapped up in things. This site, 50 word stories, is certainly evidence of that. Tacitly, I reckon my vanity is safe here at this locale. Always have. Yeah, it can get a bit messy (like recently). And most of the time, whenever I rethink my life, I'm really just following the same patterns as before, patterns which are documented nicely here.

What I'm trying to say this week, I guess, is that I'm random and self-obsessed. Writing 50 words to blow off steam can do that; allowing for indefinite words once a week can do that, too. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. Though I don't really like that I'm constantly following the same patterns.

... but what's the use? At some times, I sure do miss how things used to be. But I suppose time marches on. I'll go ahead and take a little time off from all this narcissistic hooplah ... give my ego a rest. So everyone! Let's all go home, make up some stir-fry, talk about nothing over a bottle of wine, make out for a few hours and fall asleep in each other's arms. Sounds nice anyway, right?

Sentimental Sunday

Torn.

(But not really all that undecided.)

Just when a future here in North Carolina seemed unsatisfactory, elements come forth and make themselves known. Relocation is a given; I shall not stay in J-ville. Nevertheless, my future could be somewhere closer than I'd previously thought.

(But it won't be. Rationality always wins for me, doesn't it?)

Staying would mean that I'd be thrown straight into a completely adult life — no second, third, fourth or fifth gears here; only a headlong dive down a steep incline shuttering once on a next-to-unnoticable push-start pause into sixth gear and riding hot. I'd be responsible for more than just me and the woman I'd've chosen: children. And if you think that's enough to freak you out, try adding up the pros&cons of remaining in the lives of Ms. Supermom and her kids. —Because the pros outweigh!

(There's no doubt in my mind now that I'll be taking the way with the large cons. And all I'll do to acknowledge the pros will be a heartfelt moment when she sees me off at the airport, which'll probably look completely platonic if you were watching from the sidelines.)

Something's telling me that there's a whole other life of growing, love, patience, and depth that can't be described, and that's what I'll be leaving to start another solitary life elsewhere. Yes, I have my apprehensions (which will probably deter me altogether), but a decision like this could make my entire life mean something again, if it ever meant anything to begin with.

'Course, could all be just some kind of lustful haze. It's been a while since I've indulged in the erotic pleasure of a good woman. And most of you know how a situation like that can distort things for me.

In the end, the only real conclusion I can offer would be one dragged up from years ago (and of course, never exact ... or even close): "We go through life without the possiblity of return. Since we cannot revisit a moment in life and take the other decision, there is no way to determine which is right or which is wrong."... or something like that. ... In the end, I hope that you are living your life perfectly. Because if you are, then I am, too.

The Story- The Cliff

The breeze pushing my back, as though trying to help me to jump off
the cliff. Keeping both eyes closed, I stuck one foot out, and
wiggled, just feeling the open air. Quickly I jumped, and landed right
on the road. I went back to the sidewalk, to start again.

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[SUBMISSION]

The Wednesday Headache

Today I learned that the newest girl on the desk here hasn't designed fronts yet. "It might be a good idea to give her one. Things could change." This suggestion fell went unobserved. I guess (short of telling them they'll have to do all my pages indefinitely) they'll never listen.

One of the most thoughtful holiday gifts now sits on my desk here at work. It's a mug. On its side, several circles of three different sizes are laid out in a pattern that pleases me vastly. "Modern-day polka dot? Vinyl throwback? To me, it's just you," she said, pseudo-charmingly.

Last night, Ms. Starchild was on my mind. I was dragged down into sleep with the thought of calling her, and in my dreams I did. She was laughing on the other end, sloshing around in a boat. "I'm surprised I get service out here."
Everything is just so surreal.

Looking forward to hanging with Mr. Brewmaster in the final hours of 2009 and the first hours of 2010. Hopefully, we can close the book on this awful year and look forward to love, joy, success and happiness in the next. —Everyone! these things, too, I wish for you also.

OK, so it's extremely difficult to bike to this certain retailer in town, which is the only place that sells the extra-large somewhat-rare hairclips I desire. Three hours was wasted in the death-defying attempt. And, once there, I discovered they no longer carry the item. What's a long-hair to do?

Two women at the Oriental market today gave me a bowl of noodles. I was on my way out, having purchased tea and sesame crackers, when the young one extended the bowl and said "Lunch." (Neither, I suspect, speaks English very well.) ... sometimes there are things about J-ville I'll miss.

" 'All resentment comes from a problem with that person. If someone were to love with all their heart, there's no room for it.'
She said it cooly. How can indefinitely/utterly-busy Ms. Supermom be so centered and others with time to waste be lost at their core?
He types it later."