It’s July 4. I grilled a burger. I sat on the deck and drank a beer. That’s as close to the traditional July 4 celebration as I got this year. By 9pm, I was tired, bored, and ready for bed. As I get older, I care less and less for this holiday. The fireworks, while…
Daily Fifty-Two: Jul. 4, 2023
The morning mower chokes and stalls on thick grass wet from last night’s rain. He walks slowly and in small steps, the man behind the mower, pushing nudging, retreating, and restarting. A different man doing Sunday things on this midweek holiday hammers a board into place. This sunny day is heating up.
A Summer Scene
In the firefly warmth of a summer evening, I stand on the back deck looking for the moon. Backlighting the passing clouds, it hides behind three tall pines. It’s been months since I looked at the stars, though it’s felt like years. A plane slowly winks across the western sky. The bigness of it all…
Weekend Paralysis
Some weekends hit harder than others. This has been one of those harder-hitting weekends. It started on Saturday. It being a general malaise, a heaviness of spirit, a defeated and deflated feeling towards an overwhelming (yet small and inconsequential) world. When it hits, I feel it in the slump of my shoulders. I feel it…
Daily Fifty-Two: Jul. 3, 2023
Oblivion is a black hole. If I’m not careful, this day will flirt at its edges. The gravitational forces will start to suck the day in. I may have to grab it by the arm and pull with all my might. It’s early, but I can already feel my grip giving way.
Daily Fifty-Two: Jul. 2, 2023
Stagnant air and high humidity. A sluggish morning drips into a sluggish afternoon. Even the blood slows and thickens in the veins. There’s a viscosity to this summer day, swampy and green. Algae grows across the neurons, moss dampens the chambers of the heart. Rain falls in straight lines, washing nothing away.
Daily Fifty-Two: Jul. 1, 2023
Sometimes, the sun breaks through the clouds. It’s morning, again – thankfully. The neighbor rides his slow mower across his back yard. Just over the fence, I can see his blue hat drifting out of sight. He’s being carried away on this suburban current. The one that washes away the lazy Saturday hours.
Daily Fifty-Two: Jun. 30, 2023
The see-saw lilt of the Black-capped Chickadee echoes over rooftops and trees. An occasional breeze stirs hazy air. The morning is both still and busy. Closely, closely, closely I listen. Chits and chirps and cheeps. Nearby birds like the secretary pool typing away. The static ticker sound of breaking news from yesterday.
Daily Fifty-Two: Jun. 29, 2023
Tired and ready for bed but lyrically playful, I write to the tune of “Can’t Find My Way Home.” We walk through this haze. This crazy life maze. Somebody sings off key. I play. I play… revise rewind. I read the lyrics, find the time. But I can’t find my way home.
Daily Fifty-Two: Jun. 28, 2023
Twilight yawns and soon it’s evening. Once again, the air comes with a warning label. Being alive has become a health hazard. Life has always been fatal. From the sounds of it, nobody has told the birds about this. They chirp and sing merrily in the falling dusk. Treacherous air be damned.
Like Butter
I buy the same brand, and size, of “butter” every time. I buy the 45 oz. tub of Country Crock. Two pounds and thirteen ounces. I put butter in quotes because technically it’s a plant-based spread. There isn’t any particular reason I get this brand – it’s just what I’ve done for years. I suppose…
Daily Fifty-Two: Jun. 27, 2023
If the birds sang, I forgot to notice. If the puddles reflected rainbow skies, I forgot to notice. If the June sun felt strong and direct and hot on my back, I forgot to notice. The day has passed. Most of the night, too. If it called my name, I forgot to…