From some Saturday on the slowburn, roundabout way to work, & I had a few sentences written for this, the kind with an overabundance of commas & fragments masquerading as grammatically correct clauses, but in a rare moment of clarity I recognized the absolute terror of truth, & of cliche because, look, it's a fucking spike & that was too sixteen-year-old woe even for me but then I thought who am I kidding as I contemplated Grandpa's Homerpalooza diatribe on age & the abstract it, & though a different medium, weird & scary is indeed universal & timeless, so sixteen-year-old woe it is, but not, because of clarity, so all you get is this run-on in your stocking which is what the woe was before being brushed away like loose ground.
Tomorrow, from a distance. Not that shit track, relax.
10 comments:
The orbs will come for us all, sooner of later.
~
16 year old angst? Perhaps. Still, I wouldn't want to sit on one. That would be "20-something" angst for sure!
((Hugs))
Laura
So teenage angst doesn't pay off so well? Kurt Cobain lied to me?
if, no one can stop red giantism.
laura, I think that kind of angst transcends age.
thatgirl, oh sure it does, haven't we led rich, full lives being in permanent state of vague grump?
I think you should replace all the commas in your next run-on sentence with the word beer just so we can all be happily wrecked at the end.
The best run-on I've had in my stocking in ages.
Homerpalooza rules!
...weird & scary is indeed universal & timeless...
Yeah, American politics never really changes.
". . . in a rare moment of clarity. . ."
Congratulations! :)
susan, too drunk to, er, type.
lisa, if I live for anything, it's to fix fashion disasters.
tom, I'm still bummed I missed out on Pink Floyd's yard sale.
SWA, exaggerated clap, exaggerated clap, exaggerated clap.
Post a Comment