LatinosUSA

Sometimes a thought here and there (and other nonsense to get you through the day)

Sometimes I feel like I’m outside my body, watching myself pushing the shopping cart into the corral at the grocery store. Or pumping gas. Or simply walking down the street.

I don’t know if I was solely an angst-ridden teen so much as I was angstxiety-ridden.

The farther along I get on this journey, the more I’m starting to wonder if I actually like ketchup. It elicits no joy in my life, or on my French fries.

How do whales see (look at their face)?

~~

The day of the Lindsay

She’s a walk in the tall grass, and one of the blades brushes against your hand, and you feel a tingle. She’s a ghost of a chance, a flutter in your brain. She is a smile that no one sees but you. Genuine. True. She’s the thrill of the chase, and the chase is a mental roller coaster of your own making. She is the chatter of birds and then the quiet.

~~

The continuing saga of insanity (or, a place to put my hatred)

Dear Cleveland,

It’s been a while since our last correspondence, and as usual, I expect no response. I just wanted to let you know, it’s June for Christ’s sake, and I’m sick of the chilly weather already. I’m sick of the muckleheads, and mayflies, and the spotted lanternflies, and Canadian soldiers. I’m tired of the wind off the lake that carries the stench of stale piss and smog. I’m sick of your broken streets and broken sidewalks and construction barriers and slumlords, the greasy stains of death oozing from the pavement, the «epic» tacos and $16 turkey wraps. I’m sick of this thing called hometown pride, which we both know you have none in yourself. Please don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you’re working on it. Don’t insult me. Can you try just a little? Perogies don’t cut it anymore. Billion-dollar stadiums aren’t what make a city. Empty lots won’t bring people in. Insanity—extreme foolishness, irrationality, or senseless conduct.