Dear Diary

Word of the day: tertiary, adj., of the third order, rank, stage, formation, etc.; third.

Okay, diary, get ready for this, I know I’ve been throwing a lot of poop your way lately, but today was actually a good day. I know. Weird.

It didn’t start out all fluffy bunnies and rainbows. There were no seats on the bus so I had to ask this girl to move her backpack, but she totally ignored me. She’s kind of a gangster, but she’s usually okay. She just turned her head and looked out the window, like I didn’t exist. Already feeling like a ghost over here! You don’t have to rub it in! I tried another seat, and this kid moved his backpack, but with this heavy sigh as if I was asking him to do my laundry. Continue reading Dear Diary

Why I Don’t Sign Petitions Anymore

“Sir! Do you realize that your state senator is a murderer?”

“No thank you.”

“Did you hear me? Senator Smith is a murderer! He must be brought to justice!”

“What? The guy with the …”

“Yes, the one with the big ears. He killed four people, and he’s not fit to represent our state!”

“Have you checked Snopes on this? Sounds fake.” Continue reading Why I Don’t Sign Petitions Anymore

A Fresh Start

The bees were getting restless. They had been waiting for over an hour for the humans to arrive, and they began eyeing the pretty yellow meadow flowers.

“Couldn’t we …” began Fluzz, “… I mean it seems stupid to sit around doing nothing … couldn’t we collect some nectar while we wait?”

Guzz had been pacing but stopped to consider. After a moment she shook her antennae from side to side. “No no no … please don’t. Then you’ll want to return to the hive and that’s when they’ll come.” Continue reading A Fresh Start

Freeport Drive

When I swung forward, I leaned back so far that the trees were upside down. I enjoyed the giddy feeling in my stomach, but eventually the rope burned my hands and I got off the swing and swayed, slightly dizzy, on the ground. The rope was tied to a tree limb at the top and to an old tire at the bottom. I looked down the gentle hill at the carpet of brown and yellow leaves which gave way to grass and then our house and then more grass and then Freeport Drive and then the hill where I rode my bike and the freedom of being 10 years old in Burlington Massachusetts circa 1980. Continue reading Freeport Drive

“Bartleby’s Preference” at Crack the Spine

Yuri led an ordered life. He woke up at 7 am, and his breakfast always included half a grapefruit eaten with a serrated spoon. It took him 12½ minutes to bike to his job as a network security consultant and 13½ minutes to bike back (he lived uphill). The hour before bedtime was spent reading on the couch in his living room. At 11 pm he went to bed, and, because he slept soundly and didn’t dream, the time until 7 am the following morning didn’t exist for him.

Then Yuri got a cat…

Read the rest at Crack the Spine