Sweet-sunday-like-ice-cream

Sweet Sunday

It’s a nice day out today.  Nobody is going to read this, and no-one is going to leave a comment.  Here we all have a great website to share and nobody is going to comment any anybody else’s diary.  Thank you Facebook.  There are hundreds of us on here, but hardly a one of us will engage.  Thank you Facebook.  I have feelings.  They go in different directions.  I won’t revise this.  Obama is a nice guy, but probably a stepping stone for the anti-Christ.  My mother is sad because her grandson has been brainwashed.  My father is a millionaire.  The sun shines through the green leaves, summer’s constant conversation.  My sister and I don’t talk.  I have a new girlfriend.  Her name is Steph.  She’s happy and smart and clean.  My sister once killed my mother’s pet canaries; mom was on vacation with husband for 3 weeks; she got home and the birds were dead.  They brought me gifts, like 2 shirts with Florida writing and some fishing supplies.   They never died with us playing with them.  They died under Joy’s care.  I live by mountains.  Work was hard today, but I was thankful for the pay; it is nuke’em normalcy–it nukes all emotional misalignment into homeostasis.  At the store they had no Pepsi in the cooler, so I got a Dr. Pepper.  The girl at the counter was nice, not as nice as Steph.  Our society actually nominated Trump and Clinton as candidates.  Next they will make Hilary president.  Why do they keep making reality shows?  Because that is what people enjoy watching.  You think the headphones I’m using will hurt my eardrums?  A lot of us march to the beat of our own drums.  May it be a holy drum not hurting our ears.  Most people I know will work tomorrow.  I will.  I have to earn money and give to Caesar what is Caesar’s.  Never thought much of Little Caesar’s pizza.  Where I work people die often.  Our doors have security on them.  If the door is open too long, a ring will sound that sounds just like a flat line.  I always thought it was sadistic irony.  When I’m tired and irritable it’s easier to criticize others.  I was once young.  As I got older I noticed a bird on my shoulder singing.  I finally figured out it was the Spirit.  To all those in darkness don’t stay there.  Penance isn’t death, it’s a doorway.  Death is always a liar.  Nobody will read this but that’s ok.  It is what it is.  Soul be still.  I’m not desperate.  Thank you Facebook.  Thank you Obama Care.  Thank you Kim Jung Un.  Thank you industrial pollution.  I wasn’t involved.  To all of Ruth B’s lost boys;  We see you.  Don’t be scared.  Rober Moore PhD has answers for you since you don’t believe in Jesus Christ.  

    I saw her sitting there in the window covered in the past.  She imported her voice from the Danube.  Every time I see her she is new.  She hold’s my childhood up on the shoulders of her mind.  Every time she seems me she is blue.  And that’s the way it is.  That’s the way it is.  

     Never use the phrase, “I get it.”  It’s not cute when a 44 year old mother says that.  Does that remind you of Andrew Carnegie’s little book?  Independent thought…make it your friend before it’s too late.  However it goes, it is Sunday and I’m alive.      

2 thoughts on “Sweet Sunday”

Leave a Reply

SCROLL TO TOP