Monday

My cousin used to work in a prison, and he told me that sometimes, people on the outside – friends of inmates – would take bows and arrows, and they would . . . like . . . tape joints or whatever to the arrows and shoot the arrows into the prison yard, and the inmates would retrieve them. Can you imagine - you’re standing there, and all of a sudden an arrow pierces your eyeball, and it is sticking out of your eye socket, and it’s got joints taped to it, and so you’re like, “Hey! Sweet! Like . . . Joints! But ouch, you know? There’s . . . like . . . this arrow sticking in my eyeball and all.”

This is why I love my blog (and poetry) – it gives me the opportunity to do, online, what I do in real life – namely: start weird, one-sided, unsolicited conversations about obscure, untimely, out of context subjects – out of the blue, just saying stuff I’ve heard or seen because for some reason, the stuff surfaces in the ridiculous spin cycle that my brain always seems to be on – and so I mention it to whomever. Like the following: Whenever I point at something so that my cat will look at it, my cat just looks at my pointing finger and then looks at me like “What? It’s your finger. So what.” You know? Instead of looking at what I’m pointing at I mean.

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