Sunday, July 18, 2010

I grew up with artificial flavors,
seizures, hyperactivity, sugar, depression,
medication and a sense of humor.

I grew up horny and anxious.

I grew up playing air guitar.

I grew up wanting to be intervened in,
wishing I could be usefully colonized.

I grew up waiting.

I grew up changing channels.

I grew up uncertain and confused.

I grew up dreaming I could fly.


  1. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

  2. I think we all try acting out or living up to that culminating dream objective at least once.

    Perhaps the clunk! thud! (&c.) is the growing up part?

  3. TC,

    It's fair to say that crash landing tends to be my default methodology. Maybe there's no wager inside of my Pascalian swagger.

  4. What was it Yeats wrote, in dreams begin hematomas?

    Reading your comment, Tom, the word in my mind was: wisdom.

    Are we in the Himalayas yet?

    ("Nochou!" sneezed the Nihilistic Sherpa)