Potential words or legitimate…
As yet unused in-intimate…
Refused, unused and somewhat confused…
As the poet who shared this sentiment. Lee-poet
For we who lack the perspective of Brainy Albert, the more daring among us may content our smartish selves with using as a measure of time, the Past, the Present and the Future.
The Past is but a memory;
too small to measure;
and a Future that lasts Forever…
What about Memory?…
ideas whizzing by?
that play I wrote in 2001?
The book you finished reading yesterday…?
So “Why?”, “How great is that?”
Perhaps we were wrong…
There is no future; it’s long since gone?
This is just plain silly.
Last Monday evening was the first time in forty years of attending a meeting of close friends, a group that I shall refer to as the Arcadians , that I ever witnessed a member demonstrate a belief that consensus was unnecessary for determining whether a group such as ours lives or dies.
I saw and heard a friend of over thirty years explain to our group of nine that such a small gathering was half the size necessary to officially be a group. I heard him declare that if we were unable to double the size of our attendance by the end of October, he would bring closure to our existence. His demeanor was that of a Shakespearean martyr.
If this story were turned into a novel a good title might be
That title is already reserved, however; I am prepared to publish a book about our next POTUS. – a short thriller which mentions no names.
Wed night at Miracle Mile I walked in, waved to Bill and John who were already working on Soup and Sandwich. I bypassed the serving line and went straight to the register and asked for apple pie and coffee which are next to the cashier. Since I always have apple pie and coffee and since I had no tray, the cashier already had the pie and coffee waiting for me. I thanked Wendy and moved toward our table.
When I sat down Bill remarked “How did you get through that line so fast?” John said to Bill “He didn’t.” and Bill said as though he just realized what I had done, “Lee Broom, you cut in front of all those people? That’s not nice.” and John laughed, So did Frank, who was arriving when all this rowdy Guy Stuff started, and I said “That’s the difference between Lemmings and Eagles” and Bill said “Huh?” and Frank said “Bill, for crying out loud even I got that one and as the chuckling continued, Bill said “Explain that one to me, I’m a little slow tonight.”
I looked at him for a second to make sure he meant it (which he didn’t) and said “Bill its like this, if a lemming becomes an Eagle you can be sure that more would follow, and soon the sky would be filled with Eagles and the Eagles would be fighting over nesting places and those who were defeated would no longer be flying; they’d be back on the ground, standing in line, their feathers would be moulting and every now and then one of those Eagles would mutter to his or her self, “Aw shit”. And Bill said “Aw shit” and we all laughed.
These are my friends.
They help me to keep my blood pressure down.
All rules have a limited lifespan. Rules are Band-Aids and as such are arbitrary. Rules are given birth as needed and withdrawn or replaced as needs change. And that is not a rule; just an observation.
For all of their twenty years of aging together Rupert and Karina have spent most of their time loving each other and less than 1% of this time destroying the joy of the other 99%.
There was a game that began with Karina asking a question followed by Rupert’s impatient reply that he’d already answered that question; perhaps two or three times.
Karina would then insist that Rupert had done no such thing.
Sometimes Karina would scream this reply and Rupert would respond a decibel or two higher; usually the first to yell obscenities was Rupert.
Why then, have they done this for twenty years?
Do they hate each other for the wrongs of a parent?
Are they victims of an Alien game being played on a planet in another galaxy?
Perhaps this horrible game is not so horrible after all; perhaps it is what keeps them together.
Perhaps they are just very, very lonely.
I wonder what Rupert meant when he said I’m never again going to sing The Star Spangled Banner; never, never, never.
Such a weird couple.