Thank God we’re over the past. It was an ugly time for anyone, but especially hard on us. There were times when it seemed you would never get here, but I knew you were stuck in time.
I know you think I was running from you, but really, who wouldn’t? You were so creepy with your insistence on everything now. Images of bad 90s workout videos to songs like Pump Up The Jam were a constant threat to my reality. Would anyone want to listen to that when Jane Fonda seemed so much better?
Everything looks better in Sepia. Even those bowl haircuts that boys used to have. Now they’re almost cute. Now that they aren’t around anymore. What is it that goes on now that will look better in the future? I know. I know. It doesn’t matter, it’s not happening. Future and past don’t exist.
But let me ask you one thing, before we figure it out. Did you ever say to someone “Live in the moment” only to laugh at yourself? Just for a minute. Disregarding the idea that you truly believe what you say, did the humor ever reach you, when you truly wished it wouldn’t?
Which moment, is what I want to know, did you decide you weren’t my future?
I enjoy what we’ve got going on right now and I’m not trying to give you grief. But please, let me know: if you want to go further, I can always take you back.
11:28pm: Hey, u up?
Thermometer 11:28pm: What’s that supposed to mean?
11:29pm: Just seeing whats up
Thermometer 11:30pm: Who is this?
11:30pm: I’m your #1 fan
Thermometer 11:31pm: Do you even know me?
11:31pm: I know ur hot
Thermometer 11:32pm: Stop texting me.
11:33pm: Ok- I’m serious now. Ur the 1 for me. I saw you at the CVS on 5th street, remember?
11:40pm: You were in the aisle all by yourself. I asked for your # and you gave it.
Thermometer 11:40pm: Fantastic?
11:40pm: u know it
Thermometer 11:41pm: That was two weeks ago.
11:41pm: I was working up the courage to text
Thermometer 11:41pm: Really? You seemed pretty cocky when you approached me out of nowhere.
11:42pm: It was a facade. I’m shy underneath
Thermometer 11:41: You don’t have anything underneath.
11:43pm: What are you saying?
Thermometer 11:52pm: You’re a carpet cleaner. Expiration date passed.
[Hi readers, I am trying to make a bit of money off my blog by trying Amazon’s Affiliate program. It might not work out – I’m not sure yet. Anyway, any advertisement I post, will be relevant to what I write. I respect my readership and your opinion.]
The Guide To Modern Dating:
Dear Brown Paper Bag,
You were there when I was broke. You looked like something out of a postage store with your nondescript packaging. It was before the idea of dainty handles made from braided paper. Fitting in was out of style.
There’s a certain dignity to being plain when you know you’re a necessity. Frills are for those without substance. Your no nonsense attitude was perfect for packed lunches on the job. I put the beer at the bottom.
So why did you change? Did you feel the need to compete with shoulder bags? Were you trying to attract someone else? Someone who had places to go? Someone who wanted to be seen?
I miss giving you notes.
Don’t worry about a thing – he probably didn’t even notice they caught fire. Remember to act stupid and I’ll see you at home.
I miss giving you everything I could find. Mints stolen from the Chinese food store down the street. Sandwiches with three different kinds of meat. You were open to everything.
I saw you, or the latest version of you, at the grocery store last week and couldn’t bring myself to walk over. Sitting in the same aisle as organic wrapping paper and blank cards featuring vaguely artistic photographs, you weren’t in the right place.
$3.99 per bag.
Let me know when you’re back to being trashy.
Your ex wife
Horn: A sharp protrusion. A warning. A pointed optimism for victory. The sound is of a dozen defenses. Defenses from a louder brass band.
Horn: A sound the color of brass. A brassy texture of volume. Loud space funneling forward. Inward. A noise channel. A channel engulfed by the volume. The volume of something filled.
I take my job seriously because people depend on it. I protect the email. I protect the user. I even protect information. I am the Spam Folder.
Every day I catch stray spam, trying to weasel its way into the computer. Save 20% off your next purchase when you try SalonPro Scalp Control! It stands at the edge of my decision, pleading its case as if it was something new.
“The scalps of innocent people may flake off entirely if they don’t take precaution now!” I’ve seen it all.
Filled almost to the brim, I have become invisible. Please, just empty the spam, I pray to the user every evening before rush hour. I don’t know how much more I can take before completely slowing down.
Happy Dating Love Available For Destiny!!!!
I capture it, wrestling with the idea of actual destiny. Maybe there is something to the email. Maybe even if it is junk mail, the opportunity for love will conquer. I think of my user, tapping on the keys for hours at a time. Even at night the laptop is on. If real love existed, the power of online wouldn’t consume so much.
Real, live, girls looking for marriage! Good food! Happy home! Happy heart!
No, this is not beneficial. I pluck the email from an undecided cloud and bury it behind Mattress Discount Blowout!! Act Now And Receive Clean Sheets!!!
I have room for only one more email. The account is slow and I feel as if I am swimming through a public streaming of the Academy Awards.
Are you addicted to the internet?
It comes at me during a suspicious time: the small hours. Once 3AM hits, foreign spammers swarm with offers of everything from anti-aging miracles to fashion modeling careers. This goes against the script.
Do you spend more than 4 hours a day online?
I know for a fact that social media takes up at least a few hours of time per day. Once down the search engine rabbit hole, the spam accumulates to maximum capacity.
Do you feel less comfortable than you used to when socializing face to face?
This service, whatever it is, could truly benefit those from a certain generation.
Call now to set up your initial consultation at 1-900-293-2726. Please disclose your name, email address, cell number, and any social media account profiles that are active and we will get back to you within 2 business days.
The need for information seems inappropriate. Social media accounts are of no use to anyone except marketers. But perhaps this company will ultimately help detangle the addiction of online exposure. Not to mention, the email account could truly be destroyed if information isn’t handled properly. By letting the advertisement through, I could be preventing much larger problems in the future.
Do the right thing for real connections.
The email address contains a name. John McCall. There is a business account attached to the address. It’s probably a registered company. It’s probably legit.
There once lived a space heater with little warmth. Every winter, when the office was frozen as an icicle, he was placed on the floor next to a pair of high heels. With the thermostat knob switched all the way to the right and the power turned on high, he shook with the struggle to heat.
“I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.” The high heels tapped impatiently.
The space heater tried harder. With heaving breaths from deep inside the mechanics of his being, he blew as deeply as he could.
“It’s like you don’t even want to be of use.” The high heels stomped.
The space heater coughed and sputtered. Its feelings were on fire.
“Are you going to break down now?” The high heels clicked. “Not that it would make much of a difference.”
The space heater glared at the rubber sole next to him. It wasn’t even soft. It would never be comfortable. He heaved his breath once again.
“It’s almost like you’re blowing cold air. Like an air conditioner.” The heels remarked.
Sparks flew from inside the space heater. Tiny flickers of orange and white stars burst from the fan to the floor.
The heels stared silently in astonishment.
Electrical shocks of steaming energy scattered across the power cord. Flames were now threatening the carpet.
“What is wrong with you?!” The high heels said again. “You’re going to burn down the office!”
The space heater noticed a patch of leather oozing off the edge of a shoe. The smell was like plastic with a worn sense of age and instantly the space heater shut down. He shuddered. He melted. With one last glance at the double polished pair, the space heater finally recoiled.
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I know how you feel, and yes, you’ve come to the right place. I can tell the kind of person you are because of the way you feel. Your wandering energy seems listless, but I know you’re searching. You want things to make sense. You’re tired of the prison your life has become. I understand. I know.
You may be wearing the same clothes as everyone else, but the colors and textures of your mind betray you. You’re different. You’re beautiful in a way that is so unique, no one else could understand the complexities of your life. You doubt yourself. You doubt your future. You don’t doubt the transition forward.
You see me hanging in a Chinatown shop on your way to somewhere else. Thousands of gold painted coins with symbols you can’t understand sit in the bowl below me. Every one of them is one in the same. You want something else.
When you first picked me up, I felt the fingertips of a person who has experienced more. You’ve seen things no one else can describe. Your emotions run deeper. Your expression flows wider.
You need me because just like you, we are both the same. We are special. Like everyone else, we know.
Age: Expiration date optional
Body Type: Curvy
Someone who is mysterious and probably misunderstood. Substance use is acceptable as long as it’s for healing purposes only.
My Ideal Date:
Watching old VHS tapes of Tom Waits and comparing it to your band.
Three Things I Can’t Live Without:
1.)The joy of helping others
3.)The back shelf of your pantry
I’m at a point in my life where I know what works. I have faith in myself.
One thing I am exceptionally good at:
Decreasing a tense situation.
Complicated by Avril Lavigne
“Be My Headache.”
“I don’t do sparkles.”
“You don’t have to if I’m there.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Everybody needs shine in their life.”
“It’s better to be bright.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sick of this.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Let’s not be trashy.”
“Just because you’re old, doesn’t mean you’re classic.”
“Do we need to stay home tonight?”
“Depends if you’re going.”
“Yes. As long as you’re not ostentatious.”
“Why is a little attention so bad?”
“It’s not the amount, it’s the type.”
“Fine. I’ll stay home.”
“You can’t stay home.”
“I don’t want to have a bad time.”