Who Needs Fiction

Noon light through the window at a free fall, one day of procrastination and pizza and Cheetos already under the belt, I sit at my computer. The drum circle upstairs, though empowering, has thankfully finished - I can get down to work. After these emails. And someone has replied to a thread I replied to on Facebook and I have to peek, and geez that picture is starting to make me look like a horse, I need a new one, but I dont have a new one, I'll just send my buddy a message about it on Facebook. For help, see, I need help, and it's a way to communicate.

Oh! I didn't mention I had left the computer on - Sorry Earth (I swear I usually unplug and everything). There is a Word document open, along with a browser, they have been up all night.

So I finish the message and hit send while I'm thinking I don't want to do this: get sucked into another day of not doing what really needs to be done while I'm calm - why must I MAKE myself crazy pushing all 40 pages into 4 days of manic depression?? The page refreshes confirming my sent message and the mouse clicks without my direction. There's another, and another, 4 tabs open now, and another, more opening, and more - in the time it takes me act 20 new Facebook tabs have popped up - I stab at the X in the top right corner, it takes a second to respond and I keep stabbing, frightened now for a reason I can't name. "Do you want to close all tabs?" finally and mercifully appears. The tabs, their growth frozen, bleed off the screen in orange double arrows, I wonder how many there are now, and click Yes. Hell Yes.

wtf. I'm rebooting this whole machine. Close all this mess. Whatever that was has me thinking of calling my asshole cousin I havent spoken to without force in six months, but shit he knows computers. I close the Word document I had opened the night before to check my spelling in a Facebook comment, the word I wasn't sure of? Leprechaun.

I want to say this to a guy in my fiction class

worse than coincidence you believe no meaning in actions taken, choices made by your fellow craftsmen. and I think that absurd. for if you are to write and have any reason for it, deserve or demand any audience, each action, each choice is purposeful; for author is creator of the book’s world, indeed the world one enters as reader, whose world, in fact, is changed by this entry, this visit to a created possibility, a reflected truth; and as they say of God, he didn’t make no mistakes. thus your flippancy, your dismissive throw of head and toss of hand, I think as absurd as you apparently think my question.

Connective Tissues

I am coming ot think of cigarettes like methamphetamine. All love to my compatriots battling or embattled by, or having whethered the battle of, both. I called the one sudafed and drano, but the other, my word, is the same. A concoction of chemicals vile to the body. The high is unmanageable. And the effect progressively masked by what delivers it. All this fuss over legalizing marijuana and we tax and thus condone poisoning. This undoubtedly made easier by the internal explosion (rather than propencity toward physical combustion of structures) and subsequent length of time the vileness takes to become visible.

While Driving I Figured Out

Fish are slippery
and fight ferociously
when caught though they're
often only hooked by the lip