3 left 79.
2 right 59.
1 left 95.
The hulking door swings, wide.
Contents jangling, floor.
I need to be blank.
Empty, sound, pure.
Fat people spend a lot of time stretching their calves when at the gym. I can’t speak for what they do at home.
I don’t trust people who drink too much or too little.
Wearing white pants can never be justified.
Running downhill is easy. You learn a lot about yourself on the way back.
I cannot recite scripture or literature from memory but I’m pretty sure Fred Dreyer said, “never look up a dead dog’s ass.” For some reason, I remember that. Dreyer’s dead, so I can’t confirm it.
I’m not sure what’s more alluring—watching a woman put her hair up or watching her take it down.
Too many people confuse activity with action.
An adult man who uses a bicycle as his primary mode of transportation has made poor life choices.
I enjoy sitting at a quiet bar sipping a whiskey, neat, in a thick bottomed glass. I should do it more often, and I should always pay in cash.
Of course, I judge a book by its cover. That’s the purpose of the cover.
Are people who park next to me in an empty parking lot lonely?
Windshield wipers on the driver’s side always wear out first.
Everything designed since the ’50s is demonstrably uglier—buildings, clothes, cars, appliances all of it. Language, too.
Why would I choose white chocolate?
Would more people stay sober if there were ten steps rather than twelve?
I’ve never waited for anyone while leaning against my car, with my arms folded. It seems uncomfortable, not to mention the precise timing necessary to pull it off.
Chet Baker was put on Earth for rainy days.
People dance a lot in TV Commercials. Much to my dismay.
There are so many Big Pharma-created maladies that I don’t have. Oh, how I wish for sweaty palms. So, I can belong.
There is now a pill for grief. That makes me sad.
Should my scotch be in a decanter?
I have been described as a cantankerous sentimentalist. I’ll own it.
When someone tells you they want to be alone, believe them.
The floor is swept clean.
Bare, purging complete.
Spring cleaning is done.
Feather duster and woodchipper.
An empty safe is a quiet safe.
Tumblers unjumbled.
Now, to slumbering sleep.
I love white chocolate. It even smells different. I love Whiskey. It didn't love me back. I quit, and now I smell different.