I can feel someone looking at me. Worse, it’s an ‘I’m about to try to start a conversation and it will be annoying’ type look. Please stop with the looking. Can’t you see I’m reading? Quietly? Quietly reading? Emphasis on qui… “Hi!”, no discernible pause, abrasive American accent, “Watcha reading?”
Jesus. Here we go. Without looking up, “Umm….”, Continue reading
He stood and looked up at the tree, and wondered if it was dying. It looked kind of… dishevelled. It had some dead branches at the top that he could not remember seeing when he had been younger. He could not remember seeing so many insects on it either, and having climbed this tree hundreds of times he felt he would have noticed, unless youth and enthusiasm had somehow caused him to overlook what appeared to him now as streams of rather nasty looking ants, tufts of intimidating cobwebs, and thousands of tiny holes each no doubt occupied by some bitty type pest. He’d had it looked at, the tree. Looked at by someone who ought to know a dying tree when he saw one. But according to this guy anyway, a Level 5 Arborist as he’d repeatedly mentioned, the tree was fine.
Hi Sarah! Love your profile picture.
May I ask…is that your ex boyfriend?
Because I’m telling you straight up,
I can’t compete with him tongue wise…
That guy’s a freak! I’m pretty sure I’ve got
him beat on the conversation front though.
Hilarious. To be honest my ex had
many dog like qualities – loyalty
wasn’t one of them as it turns out.
Writer’s block; it’s like being constipated. There’s plenty of stuff in there, but it’s all shit. The solution, according to millions of websites, blogs, blurbs, books, ancient scrolls etc, is to write. What!? Idiots. If I could write I’d… Well, obviously I can write; it’s just that what I’m writing is so abysmally putrid it makes me want to projectile vomit, Continue reading
Hello Dear Readers,
As it’s been about three months now, I figure it’s time for a new rendition of the Ransomology Weekly Newsletter.
As previously discussed, in order to avoid starving to death, living on the street, living on the street while starving to death, or pimping my ass; I had to get a job. Continue reading
Depression is no laughing matter. I said this a long time ago to my then girlfriend, a psychologist. She found it funny, and ended up using it as the title of a presentation that she gave to a group people suffering depression. I doubt they laughed much, Continue reading
‘I miss you.’
‘I miss you too.’
‘I mean… I really miss you.’ Continue reading