susana
I am such a suckeker for stray animals. I used to live on the reservation, and I ended up with an extra dog--chowder--because she was a chow...der... She ran after my car when i would leave the res, and so she would end up spending the whole day, happily hanging out while I ran my errands.
holistic medicine is death to me.
I can not even drink chai tea
Coffee once a day is fine
but one bit of fennel is unkind
my body is not my own today
while I am sharing I don't get my way
Get my motor going. I pulled, tug-tug-tug... dead. Pull! tug-tug-tug...dead.
What is wrong with this thing? Is the blade too high? am I pushing it too hard? Gas...maybe it's out of gas! But what kind of gas? Where do I get gas?
Champagne, Illinois is the home of deep thinkers and middle america. How would Ebert feel...to know...they voted for Trump?
At the picnic, I looked down at me feet and considered the condition of my shoes. They were soft, well-worn...grayish from city walking. I could feel the pavement through the hole in my right foot, where months of walking had worn through the sole. My foot was calloused and black in that singular spot.
Under which conditions is one expected to keep going forward? To keep moving on? Under any condition, I expect. Under whatever condition, what other option does one have? Keep going. You got this.
Wintertime in New York is unlike other places. Soon falls and gives hope, which gives hope to disappointment as it falls and disintegrates into the concrete, warmed by the life-force of the city streets. wintertime is cold, soulless, lit up and dressed as a lie of warmth and love.
I slipped the card into the slot of the headband waiting at my forehead and I began to ask questions. Is it living? an animal? a food? What color is it? Can I take it out in public? Is it something I can wear? I know! It's a Chicken!
the headband dug into that space just above and being my ears, clashing unmeldingly against the stems of my green Korean glasses. the tiny spikes of the band dug menacingly into my scalp, leaving its mark on my skull only as a disquieting memory.
I ate thanksgiving leftovers in a fort.
It had a treehouse and funny rules, "You talkin' to me?"
a few new friends, fried potatoes, and a SMART Car.
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