Abating neither the winter sun nor the ravaging cold of nothingness , the nocturnal light seeks refuge amongst the withered corners in which to shine.

Well shit son, I guess were done.

Many nights I wake forgetting who I was before the dream. You get used to sleeping with a light on. It helps orient you when falling through the clouds.

Its 7:20 the morning after. "Crap now I have to wear dirty underwear all day."

From behind they are all the same. Faceless, alien. It is impossible to know who is good and who is bad. From here there are no sympathies, only needs.

You said you'd never leave me. You said we were BFFLs. I hate you now. LIER!

Silent pulsating light. Its blank white shelves yearn forlornly for so much as a condiment. My stomach grumbles. It grumbles back.

To tell you the truth the left pocket just feels weird.

They should be in my left pocket. I always put them in my left pocket. I'll check my bag. Oh no...I think I left them on the counter. Probably by the mailbox, or maybe by the toaster. I can't believe I left - oh wait, here they are.

Sick. Bored.
Today I went to the market to get some medicine and soup. I bought a loaf of bread, only to find I already had one from the day before.

Some days I spend hours just soaking. I soak so long my bones get wet. My body lies prone after the water drains away. Lethargic, I turn the knob and let the steam fill the room once more.

Sometimes when I get home, I just stay in the car for awhile. I leave it running with the radio turned low. I'm not sure why I do it; just that its comforting for some reason.

Thanks Kay, no really, I couldn't if I tried. Lemme stare at this cup a bit longer then I'll be going. It's been a late one for all of us. I should probably call. Hopefully I'll get the machine.

No, shes in surgery. I don't know the doctors aren't done. I don't know. Listen I said I don't know. I don't know anything ok! I'll call you later it's freezing. Yeah, Lake Side.

Before she begins crying he stands up, shakes his hat out, and starts for the door. She'll catch a cold in this dusky motel room, but he can't bear to listen to her sob. He figure's she can stand the night. Come morning she'll be on the road heading back the way she came- 500 miles back to her dead-end job and her dead-end life in her dead-end town. He wishes there were better options.

Got myself a cause for indulgence... mmm a little person satisfaction. Boss calls it leverage. I call like it is- just a good piece of violence. Hope that cowboy shows wouldn't mind taking to cut on him. In the mean time though I'll taste the tears of his sweet chablis.

...Nine rings...now ten rings...there was either no one home or perhaps she wasn't home alone. 11 rings...was this payback for the other night? She must have disconnected the machine... twelve rings... or else...what else? What could be keeping her? Thirteen...I'll hang up soon. I'll give it just a few more rings then I'm hanging up and going over there myself. Fourteen... Don't fear the worst. You always fear the worst...

It's early and my head is full of bees. I'd like to hale a taxi and find my bed, but there's still work to do. Time enough to sleep when your dead.... Maybe Tonight.

Of all the colors in the world purple has the biggest chip on it's shoulder. Not only is it elitist, trying to rub elbows with royalty, but it totally discriminates against minorities such as rappers, poets, and Shakespeare. Apologists will say its acting out against being "defined" by gays and tv dinosaurs, but really it's just tired of being the low man on the rainbow.

Last call is at 1:45 am. The library is open till 2:30, the laundry 4:00. The diner opens at 5:00 am. So often you have an hour in the cold. If its snowing I try to keep walking, otherwise its a good time for a snooze.

An entire chapter devoted to the mating habits of salt water snails can be found in Darwin's On the Origin of Species. Snails, of course, are asexual - perhaps a confirmation of the explorer's oft speculated dementia. Or maybe he was just an original prankster who liked to keep it real.

The warmth of whiskey- home.
The night is inky black with smells of pine, and wood smoke. I'm cold, tired and looking forward to some ease. The jig in my head skips along, “The praties are dug and the frost is all over. Kittie lie over close to the wall.”

The eye does not see things but images of things that mean other things. However the eye may see, beneath this thick coating of signs, whatever it may contain or conceal, you leave without having discovered it.

What are these groundless imputations of the self? What am I looking for? Who?

...I followed him around the corner, but he had disappeared. I asked the receptionist what room he was in. "Sorry there's no one by that name here."

A friend of mine is absolutely terrified of dentists. So much so, she has her mother come with her to the office. When she told me about this I wasn't struck by its absurdity, instead I was reminded that there was a time when someone, beside myself, had provided comfort - reassurance. It must be a fine line between feeling helpless and being...

Once a man and his wife asked me directions to a shelter where they could find a warm meal and a good night's rest. I informed him that I unfortunately did not know where to find one. I did however give him some money to buy a bus ticket. His wife looked at me with shame in her eyes. I felt good about myself.