Skeeter Writes for Me

Very well--unfolded itself. The soggy day rearranged its folds into sloppy forms of what it could be. A bear, a humanoid, a crane until it settled itself and dried under the sun as a less crumpled version of the beginning.  A good day.

My heart's become a crooked motel full of slanted humor. Who will pay for these rooms? The queen of hearts? She laughs at my words and takes a bitter toll from my ears. No, she cannot pay, the queen's currency is stone. Everyone has their dues to pay.  Although, don't ask me, I'm overpaid and underwater. I'm overdue to set sail in a teardrop beneath the trampling feet of my people trying to drown the sun in weekends of whiskey. No matter how many times we fools try, I wake up in this uninhabitable land with the sun in my face.

Amish or Part-Timish Women are always 1000 steps ahead in thought than men. They make their mind up about you. Hello, you've reached Ben but I'm not here, or maybe I am. I don't know. I meant crazy. Real insanity, like pulling out all of your teeth and smiling crazy. The anxieties that used to take away my happiness. Develop the pirate idea. Maintain the theme of recognize the brightness and wonder of life juxtaposed against the hardships.

Loneliness has taught me a seemingly profound lesson. If you choose to love, stay on the ground. It seems the opposite of magic but the more I learn through observing my surroundings I see magical things. With our head in the clouds we are looking in the wrong places for magic. In the cloud of imagination we find fleeting and fantastic illusions of thought but these are only ethereal. All the while, dirt, storm, wildfire, and tumultuous deluge is experienced. These are the actual elements for passion and life. An imagination is a human quality that can dilute as easily as inspire life.  My observation of and subjection to life construct contradictions and examples that seem to be in opposition, but without contrast the world would be flat and bland. Herein we find the magic.

Trudge the Trudge To those who walk the walk, you have my envy for your bounds are clear. To everyone else, you have my condolences for we trudge the trudge. We endure the talk and we slog on. We trudge through well worn paths. We suffer talk and I envy the silent ones. They're the ones who hold a true belief. Belief should give some sort of comfort and peace to the holder of truth. The fervor and loudness that boils through strongly spoken beliefs probe deep into my thoughts and undermine the believers belief itself. This is the trudge. This is my own doubt of the believers conviction. Doubt and insecurity are loud only to obscure any reason or question of a conviction. Therefore talking the talk becomes shouting the shout and violently reveals doubt. I trudge on and I shout the shout while conviction talks the talk and walks the walk. I am trudging the trudge.  Are you?

I wasn’t the happy man. I wasn’t the good man. I believed  that   I was.

Skeeter says, "Please be careful during this snow that's coming."