My sister once convinced me to eat a crabapple from this tree in my grandmother’s yard. She told me it would taste good and I believed everything my big sister said. It did not taste good. It was remarkably terrible, actually. That’s not the bad memory I’m referring to, though. That’s one of many stories of her pranking me throughout my youth. The crabapple, the red onion she told me was red cabbage, the hot…
It is weird to be watched. To have someone waiting for you display how human you are so he can come after you and exploit your weaknesses. To be the target of an emotional sniper. I wonder if he knows the damage he’s doing. Not to me, though. I’ve been working on being immune to that garbage for a long time and it’s finally taking hold. [][][] I’ve taken the week off from work. Naturally,…
I remember when this song was new in the world and so was I, in a way. Memphis. Windows down, sun setting, so bored and lost that I felt annoyed by all the goddamned freedom. The past several months (years) have worn me down in ways I could not have predicted but that seem necessary for me to evolve. I’ve made some very difficult decisions but I am buoyed by the thought of better days…
In case you ever get bogged down in the mundane and the frustrating and forget.
This is the kind of thing the sun does to the trees round about 6:30 in the spring in Tennessee. No filter. No editing.
… and broken health and a hope tree that has lost the faculty of putting out blossoms. — Mark Twain
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