comedy

I find it much easier to write angst than humor.  I want to feel happy, but I feel angst.   I shaved my dog.  It was funny.  But then it started to be less funny.  And there were a lot of questions.  Mostly about me (a few about my parents and one about my high school guidance counselor's suggestive note in my yearbook).  And once you've shaved the dog for a laugh, it's done, it's over.  Shaving the cat will be derivative.  Then, of course, there will be nagging abuse issues...and, all of a sudden, it will be decided that it was NEVER funny to shave the dog.  And, all of a sudden, you're the angst ridden loser you always were.  Write what you know.

guess

Why did you not notice?  Did you not care?
I did it for you.
I thought.  At the time.
But.  I guess it was for me.  
I wish you had noticed.
But.  
I guess you were hoping I noticed.

hope grows

Something is growing inside of me.  At first, I thought it was growing on me.  I searched.  I felt, I prodded, I rubbed, I stared, I stroked and poked.  I longed and fantasized.  I became obsessed, but found nothing of lasting substance.  I was clearly an exhausted victim of pleasured concern, but not a receiver of lasting satisfaction. 
Sorry, I think I got distracted. Where was I?  Oh, yeah...the growth is on the inside.  I think it (the growth) may be someone with whom I disagree.  Not completely alien, just unpleasant, like a politician.  Inside me.  Growing.  
I hope it stops growing so that I do not end up with a clever epitaph...I can't explain that except to note that something I predicted was inside of me, growing, and ended up killing me, may provide for a clever epitaph...but maybe it is something good that is growing inside of me.
Seems unlikely that an unexpected growth would be good, but maybe. Maybe.  I'll try to stay positive. My growth might be a celebrity!  A famous celebrity making a triumphant return to this glorious earthly realm.  I hope it is Samuel Langhorne Clemons...or Frank Sinatra...I'd LOVE to croon like Sinatra...but, it is probably a tumor. Probably a tumor, or possibly just a pimple.  Maybe Sinatra's pimple!? 
Yes.  
Now I'm sure of it.
  
Pimple.

Probably common; it can't sing.

again.

Crude laughter.  Why would I judge laughter?  Because, I am me: not us, not we, and still not free.  Please laugh your laugh.  Let me hear your joy.  Let me feel your abandon.  It will be brief.  It will be easy to miss.  It may someday be my tears.  If I get another chance, to hear your laughter, I will listen, I will allow a smile of release, a smile of love. My smile. Our smile. I pray.

Dad

Since his passing, seeing my dad in all things has helped me understand all things as both unique and shared.
Merry Christmas.

It's not important, but, it did happen...to me!

I told you about the dime I lost. "Dime" not being slang for a drug transaction. "Dime" not being slang for anything.  I lost a dime. 10 cents.  I don't think you were listening.  So, I am writing to you now.  I lost a dime!  Exclamation point.

i can't imagine what it is that inspires.

now

Do you remember yesterday, when yesterday was today, and yesterday was new, and today was tomorrow and now today, is.

happy

mrs. casey had a cow.
she loved her.
she milked her.
she looked up at the stars.
she was meant to have her cow,
to milk her cow.
destiny; hers,
to love her cow,
and mine,
to love her,
mrs. casey.

Hard

hard life,
hard earth,
hard rain,
hard work,
hard luck,
hard men,
hard women.
soft love.