Pony and Thom

Monica was making fruit salad. Her friend Pony was shucking corn. Pony's boyfriend Thom was putting something on the grill. The dogs were in the backyard. It was a potluck!

I was picking certain fruits out of the fruit salad and putting them in my mouth and watching Monica, Pony, and Thom playing a game that involved extreme pantomiming. It was dark outside and raining lightly. The ceiling fan was on and doing nothing. Burning Sand and Loving Hand were poking their heads into another room and then wagging their tails.

A scary movie was put on. The lights were turned off. Pony kept talking throughout the movie. "Don't go into that room, stupid!" Pony said. "Geez! How stupid can you be? There's a ghost in there!" Pony said. "Ha, ha, yeah, how stupid!" Thom said. "Yeah, so stupid. Oh my gawd, what an idiot!" Pony said. It was kind of annoying how Pony kept talking throughout the movie. It wasn't scary because of Pony's voice. I wanted to say stuff too, but I have self-control. I understand that fear makes a person stupid. Fear makes you go into rooms that you shouldn't go into. That's the way it is. In the movie, a mother was exorcised. When she was possessed, her face looked like a canvas of cantaloupe peel. Her eyes were small and terrible. She spit-up blood. But the demon was cast out of her, and her face returned to normal. The daughter she tried to kill loved her again. They shut the door to the house and never looked back. Pony didn't say anything about that!

Pony and Thom went home. Monica was cleaning the dishes. It had stopped raining sometime during the movie and it smelled good outside. I wasn't even a little bit scared.

Behind Butter

There's a lot to making butter. Well, not really, it's actually pretty simple. I guess what I mean is: there's a lot behind making butter. Yes, that's it. There's a lot behind making butter. Better butter, at that. There's a great deal behind making better butter. Sometimes, a pebble is really a stone. Sometimes, a stone is really a boulder. And sometimes, a boulder is really a mountain.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling like I have too much on my mind, I make the simplest butters. Plain, salted butter. Even, unsalted butter. But there is so much behind those simple butters! So much excitement or fear or pain or doubt. I make those simple butters because they are always enjoyable.

They're hard to mess up, even if I'm messed up!

This Post was Inspired by Carole Maso

Sometimes, it's difficult to post on the blog.

It means so much. Every word must count.

Trim the fat.

No more waste.

There is too much to write about because there are too many words.

But the only word I know that must be written is:

Today.

Today--

I did not make butter and

Today--

I tried to solve a problem. Maybe it was a mystery.

Mysteries are mysteries because they haven't been solved.

I did not solve the problem.

It is a mystery.

But a mystery is a mystery because there is a chance.

Solved.

What was meant by Unsolved Mysteries?

In the back seat of Guy's car, there was wrapping paper.

I wanted to wrap my fist in it and unwrap my fist and say: You shouldn't have!

I tried calling Dad, but he didn't answer.

Stella and Warden saw something that I couldn't and started barking.

They wouldn't stop.

Or maybe, that was a dream I had on Christmas night.

The bed seemed unusually hard.

I was thinking about words.

Then, they meant nothing.

I wanted a glass of water.

But glass and water meant nothing.

My sister called.

She is worried about me.

She says I don't care about anything anymore.

She says I'm quiet. She says I should get my haircut.

I eat ice cream instead.

Sometimes, before the day even starts.

You know that it'll be a good day or a bad day or just another day.

All are tragedies.

A good day is a good day because most days aren't. A good day ends with bitterness.

A bad day is a bad day because of the heart.

Just another day means that you've given up.

Giving up is not quite failing. It's a compromise.

Compromising means your scared.

Fear is necessary.

What I'm trying to say.

Something's happening.

Always.

It is always hard to make out your face in a crowd.

You walk past yourself.

You think: I've seen that person somewhere before. On the news?

At least once in your life, you've walked past a mirror and stopped and really took yourself in, and staring into your own eyes, you've become scared.