Is It...?

“The world is too big for love to be real. There are too many people in the world to ever know, beyond everything, that you are with the right person. That your heart is as swollen as it can be. Think of all the people in China. It is unlikely anyone will ever meet all of them. How can we know for certain, that trapped inside a foreign language and thumping in a foreign heart there isn’t a love that is meant for us. The infinite possibility of existence, its limitless potential, is the proof that we need that love is nothing more than an imagination, a human folly, friendship swollen with self-importance, a final retreat from the storm of possibility. The love of our life could so easily have been someone else. It is random and accidental, haphazard and unsystematic. That which we feel for one person, clinging on to the delusion of destiny, could so easily be felt for a million people should the timing and the meetings and the mutual readiness have coalesced at some other time in some other place. Should someone else have accepted us or rejected us then everything would have been different. And once we know this, we know that all love is a lie. Not honesty but deception. Not heroism but cowardice. An unspoken agreement of mutual consolidation and compromise, a shield from possibility and a bed in which to sleep, nothing more than that. But I do still miss her.” 

 - Daniel Kitson

Facebook Funnies

Occasionally people post some absolutely HILARIOUS shit on Facebook. This was one of the funniest things I have ever read on there!

After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to Walmart. Unfortunately, like most men, I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse.

Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter from the local Walmart

Dear Mrs. Woolf,

Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Woolf, are listed below and are "documented by our video surveillance cameras":

1. June 15: He took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-
minute intervals.

3. July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the
women's restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official
voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the
employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted in management getting involved causing management to lose time and costing the company money.

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to reserve a bag of
chips.

6. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the
children shoppers they could come in if they would bring pillows and
blankets from the bedding department - to which twenty children
obliged.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began
crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?'
Emergency Medics were called.

9. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.

10. September 10: While handling guns in the Sports department, he
asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. October 3: Darted around the Store suspiciously while loudly
humming the ' Mission Impossible' theme.

12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his 'Madonna look' by using different sizes of funnels.

13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed
through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'

14. October 22: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed the fetal position and screamed 'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!

15. Took a box of condoms to the checkout clerk and asked where the fitting room was.

And last, but not least:

16. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited
awhile, and then yelled very loudly, 'Hey! There's no toilet paper in
here.' One of the Staff passed out.




And If this gentleman did even HALF the things listed here, I am VERY EXTREMELY impressed with him!!!

A Bogus Poem

This is absurd. I hope you will agree.
Hatred makes more sense than love,
as we often hissed, over polite conversations
in deserted elegant restaurants.
Where the waiters spoke only in French
and the cook was profoundly bored
and mixed the poems we wrote on napkins
into the soup that was served.

Chained by strands of acidic mist,
and the abuse of the mute and the music of the deaf
and the beatings of the paralyzed.
We look at each other
savouring the elegant hatred
invading our beings

For now it makes sense,
just like snow in the summer,
which I have always loved
And so have you,
when that was what we believed
was the real truth.

Though you have now thought about reading a book
in the middle of a deserted field
with the sun beating down in angry frustration
and the boundaries marked

by a fence made of the corpses of dreams
stacked beautifully in a nice clean line,
while I watched, sitting under the shade of that lone hungry tree

Why, the book was empty after all
The pages blank, the ink having fled
in utter misery, for you refused to read the words
the way they wished, but instead,
Complained that the Pizza delivery boy
was late. But then he arrived
at that remote meadow
in a spotless white uniform and refused to accept cash,
but instead, went away with a dead dream in his pocket
which he said was what he always wanted.

I wonder if we might examine this pizza
and see what parts belong to you and to you and to you

This slice, for sure, does not belong to me.
You must have it all.
I shall settle for the empty book
and read the invisible footnotes; they make sense
and do not lecture to me
about how I should have lived life
and what the real truth was
and so on and on and on.

- Vasudev Murthy