I don't mind posting tragedies

I don't mind posting tragedies but I do mind postings that make me look tragic.

I think it's temporary or at least it could be if I said goodbye.


I wrote just to write and the following is what was written.


There are times that I wish that my talents could be more like someone else’s.

There are time when someone else wishes that their talents were more like mine.

I’m of the opinion that if I were to strive hard enough that I could match most anyone’s technical abilities. I have doubts about my creativeness.

I think that I would be happy soldering new waterlines all day long.

I don’t understand people who don’t think for themselves. I don’t understand people who don’t think ahead.

I don’t understand why I would be asked on Tuesday, which is the deadline for advertising for the Saturday paper, if I was going to advertise a Thursday event.

I don’t know why people are so willing to do things that just don’t make any sense.

I’ve lost some of my fight.

I would rather walk around someone than to try to walk through them; but that has nothing to do with the sentence above.


She looks at her map and then off into the horizon and describes the city of gold that she sees in that little glitter. I know that what is glittering might be no more than a broken soda pop bottle. Either or there is still that chasm between here and there.

Thirteen million in project money doesn’t mean much if none of it is going to reach my pocket. I ask myself “Wasn’t that other four and a half million dollar project supposed to have redeemed us?” I ask because I still don’t feel like I’ve been atoned; and I certainly don’t see any evidence of it. I just sit quiet and look past her through the large windows into the world beyond which ends about a block and a half down the street.