Moving Loads

He walked into the room and froze.

"What have you done?"

She looked confused.

"I just moved some stuff to get the old couch in here. I mentioned I was bringing that in, right?"

"But, I expected to be involved in that!".

"Oh honey, it's ok, Alex popped by, so while she-"

"I had everything's laid out in a specfic way, I knew where everything was! Now it's all messed up!"

She looked around.

"This is identical to how it was!"

"Identical, but different!"

"Guess you'll need to clean up then."

He was sure that was deliberate on her part.

Dirty Cross

So I was maybe seven or so years old. And my aunt and uncle were looking after me for the weekend, and so on Sunday, they took me to their church.

Now the church my parents, well, parent, went to was a pretty chill one, simple.

My aunt and uncles was very much not chill.

So after a bunch of signing and stuff in a language I didn't understand, we were on our way out, as was everyone else, when I saw people dipping their fingers into little pots by the doors.

So, being seven and relatively inquisitive, I reached into the small pot, trying to find what it was that everyone was touching.

My fingertips came out covered in soot, or dust or something.

As I stand there, staring at my fingers, trying to work out what had just happened, a hand came from behind me and made me make the sign of the cross, I think, with the soot covered fingers.

To this day, I don't know who it was, my aunt and uncle were ahead of me. I think my distrust of religion started there,

Coincidently, half the family hates me now, can you possibly guess why?

Vale Larry Csonka

He would want me to write today.

He had such a drive, so prolific at his job, and yet still had time to encourage and work with me to make me better. And while he would totally understand my having to take a day off for any reason but especially to grieve, I think he'd not want to be the cause of it.

He lived as good a life as you can expect, he'd say. Don't let him stop me from working.

Or maybe not. At least he'd appreciate a good word count for a given topic.

Vale Larry Csonka.

Future Generations

I don't hope that future generations will look back on this time and think good of us, that they will see the kindness, the ingenuity, the best of us that shone in the darkness.

But I don't hope that future generations will look back on this time and think bad of us either, that the evil, the stupid, the selfish, all the worst qualities on full display right now is what they focus on.

When it comes down to it, all I hope for is that we actually have future generations to think anything they want about us right now.

A Statement, But Also A Drabble

I am keenly aware of my limits in terms of reach and importance, in most regards but certainly about my place as a writer.

I don't believe I'm a bastion of artistic expression, nor is anyone looking to me to be their main source of artistic inspiration. (In the unlikely event I am, i thank you, but also I think you should broaden your horizons.)

But as a small part of the mass of content creators on the internet, I know I'm supposed to keep creating, for all our sakes.

But as you can probably guess, it's getting really hard...

In Defense Of The Irish Whip

Invented by Danno O'Mahoney in the 30's, the Irish Whip began as some more akin to a judo throw, it was designed to throw you at the ground. Running out from it is the counter to this, since trying to stop that sort of forward momentum is hard.

Likewise hitting the ropes and running back is similar, a wrestling ring bounces, and running towards your opponent is safer than trying to stop suddenly with your back to them.

Perfectly logical. But then again, anyone tries to Irish Whip me, I just don't run because I'm not stupid, and I'm massive.

Manflu

The phone rang off twice before I finally answered it.

"What?"

"Hey dude, just checking-"

"I'm sick. Go away."

"Huh? Oh, what-"

"Manflu."

There was a long pause, long enough I was about to hang up when he spoke again.

"So you know you're overreacting?"

"No, I know exactly how sick I am and am reacting accordingly."

"But Manflu is a term predicated on overreacting to otherwise not serious illness."

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

There was another pause, then we both searched online. The fact he found a definition supporting him first just proved how sick I was.

A Note To Myself

You can justify it all you like, the notion that you know how messed up you are, that you can see how little you can offer any hypothetical woman that would in theory be able to fall in love with you. And that therefore you're doing everyone a favor by not even trying to pursue anyone.

But deep down, you're just too lazy to put in the effort, and too egotistical to be happy with anyone who doesn't live up to your ludicrous standards.

But you know that already.

And so you're stuck in a loop.

Only you though, thankfully.

At Least The Music Will Rock

I freely admit that until recently, I never got the notion that in times of war, chaos, and regressive politics, at least there will be great art out of it.

Because sure, one war had the good fortune to run in conjunction with a bunch of talented musicians making lots of great music, some of it directly in response to said war, but that's the exception.

I thought. But given all that is happening now, I'm producing lots of art from my anger.

All of it sucks, but I feel better for having done it, so there's something positive there.

Moving The Bar

He stared, bleary-eyed, at the flashing green bar, willing it to move, to grow.

He'd been here... Far too long, certainly. And he'd be here even longer if the computer didn't just finish installing.

Was it downloading? Unpacking? Repacking? Certainly it was making noises, the cursor moved fine, it wasn't frozen.

Just stationary.

He made a big deal of getting up and going to get a coffee, being careful not to look at the screen until he dramatically took a sip, ready for a spittake.

The bar hadn't moved.

He banged his head on the desk, dislodging the power cord.

Risk And Opportunity

I first saw the tattoo as he reached up to stack toilet cleaner on the aisle 7, section 12, shelf 2. Three Chinese Hanzi characters. I instantly knew the backstory, and how it clearly meant 'fate' or some such according to him. At least it wasn't a swear word, he got off light with 'bulldog'.

When we were on break, I asked him (slyly) what it meant. He told me it was his horoscope, how he was Taurus in one system, born in the year of the Dog in the other, thus he was a Bulldog.

I was very disappointed.

The Old Days

When I started in this sport, everyone was out for themselves, anyone helping you was either pulling a con or just in it for something for themselves. Attitudes were so far backwards about women and minorities and what have you, that I nearly quit multiple times.

Now? Now almost every person in this sport is amazing, supportive, progressive, willing to help when they can, thinking of the sport and how they can help it rather than the other way around. Everyone is helping, so everyone is doing so much better than the old days.

The lucky bastards and/or bitches.

Looking For Something

I found the letter used as a bookmark in a Tuscan cookbook that had fallen behind the bookcase. Given my obsession with Tuscan cooking had lasted a week, it was obvious why I hadn't noticed it missing.

The letter was still in the original envelope, the back of which had some scribblings about possible rules for swapping cards in the office romance card game I abandoned just after I went back to sauce-rich foods.

The letter was from my mother, congratulating me on getting my first painting in a gallery.

I threw the letter away, I hadn't painted in years.

My Death In This World

One day, I will cease to exist.

Before you start quoting scripture at me, even if your version of fantastical improbability requiring unreasonable amounts of trust turns out to be correct, this exact version of me in this exact level of reality will cease at some point.

And that scares me, as well it should. Certainly the world at large seems to be wanting it to happen for all of us sooner rather than later.

But there is one thing that brings me comfort.

Everyone else is going to cease to exist too, at some point.

And most deserve it.

The All Is Lost Moment

There's this thing in movies and tv and such, the all is lost moment. It's the moment where the hero or heroine is at their lowest point, they're usually near death with allies gone and powers lost and so forth. It usually comes at the end of the second act, right before the final rise and glorious victory of the hero or heroine.

I'm seeing people using this basic concept and trying to apply it to the modern world. But the problem is this isn't a movie, this is real life.

And I fear this is all still act one.

Me Vs The World

These days, I keep coming back to a simple question, given how I'm feeling.

Because while I know I'm luckier than most of the world's population, at least on the scale before it goes exponentially crazy, many days I wake up unhappy, moody, unable or unwilling to get out of bed.

So the question is, am I genuinely going through a period of mental unhealth, is this a chemical imbalance, or is this a perfectly normal and sane reaction to the state of the world right now?

Please don't bother posting 'why not both" gifs, I've already considered that option.

Birthday Past, Birthday Future

On this, yet another yearly anniversary of my birth, my thoughts have turned to my past, and my future.

One I can't change, one I don't know.

One that is filled with highs and lows, one that promises both, or neither.

One that has made me who I am today, one that who I am today will help make.

One that I regret but also cherish, one that I fear but also desire.

One that no longer exists, one that does not yet exist, both connected to now but separate.

Overall, I just want to like both.

So far... Eh.

I'm Tired

I'm just so tired.

I'm tired of having to be responsible, having to make sure the people who rely on me get through the day and remain happy, or at least not unhappy, which is not the same thing.

I'm tired of the crushing, ever present doom that hangs over us all, the knowledge that without immediate action the future will be horrible, and that the people who can do that are actively working against it.

I'm tired of not getting enough sleep too.

I'd do the obvious, but the only thing worse that being tired Is not waking up.

The Evil In Our Hearts

The evil, the darkness, you can never win against it. No matter how hard you push back against it, you can never truly be rid of it. There will always be evil in some hearts, and there will always be others ready and able to entice that evil out, for their own beliefs, or for profit, or just for the hell of it. It's not possible to destroy it, there is always another dark pit, another depth ready to unleash itself on us all.

Which is why it's so important to fight them as hard as possible at every point.

Taking The Plunge

I sat down on the couch. She smiled at me from over the tablet.

"So, did you manage to do it?"

I took a moment to answer.

"Well, yeah..."

She looked concerned at my tone.

"So what happened?"

"I got on the plane and they attached me to this other guy then when the light turned green we jumped out, and we landed in the field like they said.

But I feel exactly the same, I've thought about that all my life... But look, maybe another bucket list thing might work?"

"Such as?"

I lunged and kissed my now ex-therapist.