Friday, May 18, 2018
"Through sepia!
I see them, hardly bizarre but really
only Ward and June Cleaver, Ozzie
and Harriet etc.
Everyone’s family odd! blah blah you say, and our friends.”
“Well, my one brother…!” I attempted to start. He all but shouted me down.
“But MINE TRIBE into seriously seriously insane direction. Pathological, criminal even.”
“Give me hint.”
“No, you must pay.”
“How much?”
“Dollar is fine. Symbolic. You’re never
actually giving it. It stays like this forever.”
(As a collector of foreign currency, I have
already put the dollar in a plastic case. )
And only if you’re very sure!”
“You’re acting! Academy Award!”
“No. You’ll never ever be the same.”
So, he told me. Whereupon, Cleo
and Mark arrived.
We went bowling, I think.
After not sleeping, I walk a few hundred feet to an area where redevelopment has repeatedly failed.
Grandiosely called “The Desert.”
Bury the dollar in its case.
Labels: eccentricity, Family, pathology, ritual, symbolism, weirdness
Sunday, May 29, 2016
The Girl With the Thousand-Mile Stare
-Was born with it.
-But, she didn't seem warmless. There
was...lovemaking, no?
-Perfunctory.
-Whatever was out there ranked higher for her?
-Undoubtedly. Finally joined the Peace Corps.
I'm on her email list. Mostly for pictures.
-Hahongah and his brother climb a Wungsit tree?
-That's about it.
-Enter your very immediate Helen!
-And frenetic. No stare whatsoever. Up and doing!
Eyes like daggers. "Let's get moving! I'm bored
outa my freakin skull!"
-Bit restless, then?
-Like, 101 percent!
-But, not evil in this case?
-No time!
Labels: busy personality, dynamic, female, girls, inert personality, pathology, Peace Corps, personality, stare
Friday, November 27, 2015
The Worry of Worry
When Cindy proposed a bike trip
through Southern Indiana, Rentz
promised to think about it.
He did. Initially. Then only of the
possible dangers. From here he
branched out to local and national
and international dangers.
In short, he worried.
When she finally called, he told her
to get lost--somewhat more politely
than that.
He couldn't afford risk-takers in his life.
Which was hostile and worrisome enough.
He became Worry. In fact, if there were
a Mount Olympus in Muncie, he'd be God
of Worry.
Friends peeled away, and he got fired for
warning all his fellow employees by
preaching the hedges against disaster
learned from talk radio, including gold
and dried food.
He worries 24-7 as best he can. Though
afraid to go to sleep, he does drop off
to nightmares.
Armageddon will begin in Muncie, his
website promises.
Readers chime in, offering their own towns.
And lives worse.
Labels: Armageddon, bike, danger, Indiana, Muncie, Olympus, pathology, risk-taker, Talk Radio, worry
