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.

4 comments:

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  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?

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  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.

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  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)

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