"All sorrows can be borne if you put them in a story"

 I think it was yesterday. I was working at the front of the store filling a display when two women came in. Medium girls in age, height and weight. One was obviously here for something, the other just tagging along as friends sometimes do. I got the sense of them immediately. They had that slightly 'enhanced' way of being; people that are just a bit louder and a bit more brash than their surroundings.  Friend One had a mission: buy groceries.  Friend Two also had a goal: embarrass Friend One. 1 “I want to check the deli, I think I need cheese? Oh, and they have the best bread here.” 2 “Don't you want a pickle ?", said with all of the subtlety of a 9 th grader. 1 “Nooooo, I want to get some produce. C'mon.” 2 (Now noticing me) “Oh you should get a cucumber. You LOVE cucumbers!” 1 “Shut up”, meaning Shut up (but not really). 2 “They have big ones. You neeeed a big one.” Looking at me, mere feet away. I assume for approval (?) as I have little co...

 So it is all happening again, again: Another new Batman movie starring punching, explosions, dark cinematography, noise and sounds, actors, big bangs-bangs, superhero stuff, music loudness and goopy-doo madness squeegledunce, macha macha hey.   People are excited. I get it, I was excited once - intoxicating stuff. But this cover song of a movie isn't doing much for me yet. Maybe because we've had a bunch of Batman movies already? Plus games, animated films, graphic novels, monthly comics, bubble bath foam, breakfast cereals, etc. I don't know.  As a Batman fanman I just feel like I've seen a lot of this before and I really thought NEW was a word people understood. NEW doesn't mean, you've seen it before. NEW used to mean New, as in original, as related to Unique, as in different. I really didn't expect a New Batman movie to basically be 'Here's a bunch of shit you've seen before but from THIS angle.'  I don't know. I am sure it will be f...

  My neighbour has gone crazy.   Let that sink in.  DATE UNKNOWN   I am outside around midnight taking pictures of the spiders living in the buildings awning. Suddenly a blonde person blows past me while talking: “Hey dude,” a deep voice says, “my name is Roxanne”. She stalks off across the street trailing the scent of marijauna. “Hello,” I reply. “Yeah, I've lived in the building for three and a half years--” “Oh. Nice to meet you.” Roxanne is still talking but the sound doesn't carry back to me as she briskly walks off into the darkness. I finish taking my pictures and go inside. OCTOBER 3rd I come home late at night to find the basement walls now covered in weird writing. Most of it superficially biographical (places visited? Countries travelled to? Organization affiliations?) What are we to infer from these? Some writing feels ominous (OCCUPANCY HELD TILL DEATH is particularly striking) Some feels disconnected (THE TRUTH IS T...

 Life at the moment is the exact opposite of a Snickers - nothing is satisfying me.  I am a fella of advancing age so I spend most of my free time working on self improvement. It would be weird not to. Who the hell thinks they are perfect?  I have taken up running on a treadmill. For those not in the know running is the faster, fancier version of walking, one of my favourite modes of locomotion. I feel of two minds about it; part of me loves the coordination involved, the sweating, the ever increasing speeds and the demands on me to achieve them. The other part of me feels like I should be doing anything else, anything safer and slower and safer and my god please slow down.  Today was a bust for running. Within the first 10 minutes my Bluetooth headphones stopped working, 10 minutes after that I had to stop to pee, and minutes after that the treadmill stopped working altogether. After that triple Fuck You it took a mixture of powering the treadmill off and on, and pl...

 It's a hard thing to start talking about your self. I don't know why I waited until now to be an open book. I guess ego is to blame.  One day Gracie is going to die. Whether it is at the end of an illness or if she makes it to a ripe old age for her breed, she will expire. And that really sucks.  I've had a few dogs in my life. Actually we probably buck the average in my family considering my aunt had associations with dog breeders. Dogs have always been a part of my life. Dogs have always been members of the family. And it has always been hard to say goodbye.    Dogs are great empathy machines. You get the sense that they know exactly what kind of mood you are in. They reflect back at you what you project on them; love, affection, anxiety (I'm told).  I love Gracie. I have taken way too many pictures of her. I've thrown novelty flying discs of various makes and models for hours at a time. I have hugged her, kissed her, bathed her, toweled her, fed her, pe...

 I am tired of feeling sad.  Really. I am tired of it. I have been a wreck for quite some time. I cannot for the life of me remember when overwhelming sadness started taking over my life.  I can hear the jingly tones of the seeing-impaired crosswalk from my window, the steady Doppler effect of vehicle engines rising and falling. I sit in my home alone, much too warm without A/C, feeling so low. I haven't cried today but have felt on the verge of tears several times. Like a guy who dresses up as a bat clearly has issues, obviously so do I.  The big ones revolve around death; the death of my father, the impending death of my dog (I imagine some time away still). I think of my fathers absence and I want to cry. Even writing that and I am misty. But this is the truth: I miss him. There's no shortage of moments in the day where I don't wish he was around. And he wasn't amazing, I can't sell you a false bill of goods here. He was just a man, as flawed and obstinate as any...