There is always this, y’know? Some vast and swirling ocean, some tempestuous crashing of unfiltered life, of brine and simply being, to vault your screaming ass into, to remind oneself, ever again, of what’s important. Of what’s ultimately what.
I originally posted a version of this on Facebook, though I had left out a number of details from that initial story, to try to keep it from getting as long as I knew it quickly could become. A lot has happened since, which I’ve also added. Happy endings, y’know? They don’t happen all that …
In the game of golf, as in life, there are penalties. Without some repercussions built into the system, your bulbous neighbors Gareth and Becky Anne are soon enough dancing buck-wild nekkid in your shared driveway under the new strawberry moon, while your “president” is illegally deporting your fellow citizens to foreign countries where they yank …
I don’t know that I’ve ever done this before, copying a post from Facebook to here. But this really seemed to strike a chord with people. I tweaked it just a hair, because more room, and never give me more room! But, mostly, no. Oh, I did, I do, love me some Sly Stone. On …
So there I was, stranded along a quiet country road littered with smashed cut-flowers, beneath a darkening sky, beside a field full of foraging cows. Later that same day, a twitchy kid would stick a loaded semiautomatic rifle in my face. I’ve determined just now, via a quick consult with Google, which was not yet …