But it’s cold and dark in Dunedin today; it appears that the sunshine skipped us. The hip-hop has a sad tone to it today, something I didn’t notice yesterday. Which is alright too. Not every day can be a happy day. Sometimes the earth shakes and people fall and it doesn’t seem right to have sunshine on those days.
This plastic lawn furniture cuts off circulation, and she’s doing her best to act coy. In a moment, I’m going to look up at her, and she’s going to quickly look down at whatever silly book she’s pretending to read. Three two one…yep. She would be cute if she didn’t try so hard, but she’ll figure it out. They always do. And then they do a fantastic job of reminding us, who in fact owns, The Upper Hand.
Small children play in broken English underneath a sign advertising empty promises. I would murder their mothers for a burrito. All three of them. Though perhaps they are siblings, and that would sort of change the sentiment. But my heart is in the right place, even if my head is still broken. My tongue craves Mexican, and my hands shake in the morning.
Blogs are the death of the novel; personal blogging is the death of honest writing. And it makes me sad. They can’t all be feel good stories. There’s a word for someone who has a new mini crisis every day, but then, magically, a new lesson is learned and they walk away a better and more inspirational person. That word is liar.
I guess I’ll never be too great at brand promotion.
Go listen to something from Rhymesayers. Or Fight From Above.