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Sometimes I fantasize about disappearing.
Not dying.
Just logging off.
Getting a job no one cares about.
Growing tomatoes.
Writing poems in the margins of a notebook no one reads.
Not as a failure.
But as a kind of freedom.
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i love it when a woman slowly steps out of survival mode and starts to fall in love with life again. when her zest for life comes back and when she starts to notice all the magic and blessings around her, it’s the most beautiful thing to witness.
if miserable scumbags want to have any serious impact in advancing their scumbaggery (a coinage I encourage anyone who likes it to take and liberally use), they need some semblance of, at the very least, cleverness. so they're in big trouble in every possible way; practically, intellectually, historically, karmically, what have you. a very minor quibble with the headline, Tom. they have LESS than nothing. right now, I'm watching Ms. Huckaby Sanders advance rapidly to the place where all young Republicans go to die...the follow-up to the SOTU. she's lying as fast as she can...