shush!

my fam­i­ly:
Telling me I’m too loud and shush­ing me my en­tire life to the point that I turn out to be an adult who talks too qui­et for most peo­ple to hear.

also my fam­i­ly:
Yelling, laugh­ing, vac­u­um­ing, bang­ing on walls, mov­ing dead bod­ies, speak­ing in tongues, blast­ing Fox News, shoot­ing cats off the back fence, get­ting drunk and cry­ing to clas­sic rock be­fore 11am.

oth­er sin­gle quirky girls:
I’m so weird! I just love to eat piz­za and watch TV with my cats in our match­ing nov­el­ty pa­ja­mas! My wal­let is a ham­burg­er! All of my things look like dif­fer­ent things!

me:
I’m hav­ing a re­al­ly hard time with this idea that in the scope of eter­ni­ty, my de­sires don’t mat­ter. I wor­ry about be­ing re­mem­bered, or hav­ing cer­tain things ac­com­plished, but in the end, every­thing is ephemer­al. We’re all just go­ing to be swal­lowed up by the sun and turned to space dust. But maybe be­ing tem­po­rary is what makes any ex­pe­ri­ence even worth liv­ing. Maybe all of my per­cep­tions about what is beau­ti­ful, or what is im­por­tant, have been wrong … Can I step on your face?
 

(My mom needs all of you to know the specifics of our real life in re­la­tion to this post. A cat only got shot ONE TIME. And the drink­ing usu­al­ly starts at noon. We’re not hill­bil­lies, ok? We have class.)

(The cat was hop­ping fences and hold­ing a cell phone, which in the 80s was like the same size as the cat, and we had that whole Cold War thing with Rus­sia go­ing on, so it was pret­ty sus­pi­cious, to say the least.)
 
 

—bwargh von mod­nar

Flom­mist Bwargh von Mod­nar is. Copy­right © 2018 Bwargh von Mod­nar. Post up­dat­ed 23 July 2018 to in­clude para­graphs that some­how were not saved in the last save.‬

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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