Every now and then I stop along the trail and run roughshod through the grass, when you can feel the most eyes upon you, and flush the wild animals from their hiding spots. I am honing my pre-sapien skills, and could take the little eggs, I suppose, but pictures are just fine for now, because I am married to Whole Foods and ain't no need to flirt with the fat of the land.
This is the same law of natural selection I am so eager to skirt, 'cause I am about to re-affirm my oaths to my career, and am wondering if I will still be allowed to flirt with life, run roughshod through that part of the trail clearly marked NO TRESPASSIN' VI-O-LATORS WILL BE PERSECUTED.
Oh, what I wouldn't give right now for a bad influence with a heart full of god, but I seem to burn through my vicarious proxies, who used to come up like cheatgrass from a wildfire, but we are turning old growth. I am down to my last unhealthy relationship, taking slow, easy tokes; it is like a glowing ember upon my tongue. Goddamn, it rains, it pours.
What I am telling myself is that I may need a little help letting go. So if you are standing on the ledge, and I ask you to stomp on those fingers, please don't try to talk me out of it, because we have been down that slow, easy road. My one underqualification all this time has been my youth, but I am tellin you I've got a plan for that.
I didn't live enough way back when, and I admit to stealing a few of those eggs, with no regard for the empty nests or mother hens. I have watched enough landings to know when to tuck and when to roll. I will nail that landing with flying colors.
10 comments:
If you're hanging onto a ledge on which I stand and you yell, 'STOMP ON MY FINGERS!', I will reply, 'NO!', because finger-stomping is exactly what you'd expect me to do and I am nothing if not unpredictable.
Also, I am both a humanitarian and a dick, therefore, I will save your life by mocking you. Sorry, Brandon, but I'll not have your blood on my feet.
If I saw you hanging from a ledge I'd probably just make a lame-ass comment about it and leave. I'd come back a few times to see if anyone else left a comment, then, after a few hours, I'd stop coming back.
Until you did something else interesting anyway.
Hello, Brandon.
scott, sir, i should point out the ledge isn't that high (i can nearly touch the ground with my toes!). and it's likely that in that situation i would reallllly have to pee. so you know, just stomp already. or make stomping gestures and i'll meet you half way.
If I saw you hanging from a ledge I and seven of my coworkers would be setting up a haul system, and because I am the smallest and lightest firefighter at work I would be the one rappelling down to get you.
You might reconsider, even.
So, Brendan, I forgot to tell you that I started dating your cardboard likeness because I am a firefighter. Probably should have mentioned that.
I'm also wrestling with whether to take a promotion at work to capt. or to leave and go to PA school, where I was accepted in the fall. We should chat sometime about careers and such.
Best of luck to you.
Jan
if i saw you hangin' from a ledge, i'd run home immediately and compose an 80s-sounding pop anthem; somewhat "corporate rock-ish," with a killer hook chorus and a fly bridge. i would title it...oh..."Hangin' From the Ledge." Steve Perry would sing it, with Keanu Reeves playing bass and Dave Barry strumming the ghee-tar. There would be a drum machine, though. Because you're not worthy of Steve Smith. Bastid!
That top pic is oddly erotic...
Re-affirm your oaths to a career?? Don't do it, man. You've been clean and career-free for how long? Don't ruin everything now. Write a financial aid pamphlet or something, but for the love of strange medicine®, don't swear fealty to a career!!!
You speak Spanish?
Huevos. You've already got 'em. They'll see you through.
i am sorry i have not replied to comments today but i have been swamped at work.
i have no excuses for the days which i am not swamped by, but today my alibi is tight. ugh.
Shari makes a very good point.
I too make a habit of straying from the trail, and the other day, mouth a bit warm from the bit of ginger root I was sucking on, I found an earthworm that for whatever reason looked tasty; I popped it in my mouth and kept on. About a half-mile later there was a rotting deer carcass, and I vomited from the smell.
Morel of the story (just one; you're right, it's late in the season): do not steal the fat (earthworms) of the land.
Morning, Brandon.
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