1. Holy sheeshing fudge crap! You must watch “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” on Netflix! It’s really good. Which is weird, because it’s a t.v. show. But it is! It just came out this month, and every episode of the first season is available to watch. Thank gosh and his son jeepers we live in 2015 where no one has any patience and we all just want to binge watch 8 month’s worth of work in one sitting!

2. It’s almost spring. I went outside the other day and I wasn’t cold! I heard this weird noise and then I realized that it was a bird chirping! Wow. Spring.

3. This year I paid attention on St. Patrick’s day and I was terrified and embarrassed. Why are all these Americans pretending they like beer?! Also, no, you’re not Irish. Calm down. Also also, good job pulling out the iron to get the wrinkles out of that green shirt you keep in your closet to wear once a year. You yanks!!

4. Once an Irish person (like, a real one) called me a yank and I was like, “Uh-uh! Only my people get to use that word!”

5. Ok, we get it, you read Hemingway and Vonnegut! But like, really, what do you read?

6. Bukowski hated Shakespeare, too.

7. Did people share pictures of themselves in their bathroom mirrors before the internet? How did we all communicate before Facebook?! Remember telephone conversations? Yeah, me too! Weird.

8. It’s almost sidewalk chalk season. Also hopscotch. Also jump rope. Wait, we’re all still 8, right? Just kidding, these activities are ageless. For-all-ages. Let’s get chalky.

9. It’s so hard to motivate yourself when you have no motivation to motivate yourself.

10. Find a goal.

inheritors of this

October 17, 2014

Musings

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He’s got his life planned out. He’s got a plan. At least a little one. Me I just like looking at vague blurry pictures on Tumblr. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not mad about that, it’s just a fact. A terrifying one. He speaks well and is still going to school and I’ve been out for a year and a half now and I don’t talk nearly as smart as he does. I need to work on my vocabulary, I tell myself. I need better words.

I tell my young friend that it seems to always be like this. We talk about graduating from high school. She’s younger than my little brother by a year and a half but I like him and I still like her. I tell her all my wisdom, all that I’ve stored up and learned. Life’s like this, I say. You don’t know what you’re doing. You never do. That’s how it is. Wise stuff like that.

I look at this picture of birds flying all scattered about. It’s like that, I think. That’s exactly what it’s like.

I read terrible poems by young Bukowski and shake my head at them. I look at pictures of my grandma’s grandma and shake my head at them. No one knew what they were doing. Maybe they figured it out eventually, maybe they didn’t. Maybe there’s nothing to figure out. We’re a pack of birds or a flock of them, and here we are, all together and winging and scrambling anywhere and everywhere. Making plans and worrying and crying and reading bad poetry and trying to learn something before we take off for the real world or winter vacation or before our parents die and leave us alone here, inheritors of this.