The List

Today. Of all Days.
She’ll end her day with a Missed Connection.
Correction: Poor Souls Reaching Out to Rich Souls

To feel better? Or feel
less through this voyeuristic, vicarious life. “Sorry I stared, but…” She can only hope Georgia returns to Cross Street Market or remembers what Dan was wearing.

Where Vacation Rentals promise tempting retreats – rich souls reaching out to lonely souls, as if it was hard enough to find some one to replace those memories in the “Florida Oceanfront Condo” in “Ormond by the Sea”.

I’d rather “Get my dream rental today”.
Be careful of scammers. During vacations.
During moving sales. Taking
advantage of the eager 20-something Mary Tyler Moore coming to the brave new city finding the perfect Beautiful Rental Townhome w/ Renovated High End Kitchen. Must See!

“Me.”

And well, once she’s found the perfect “Maybe Come By and See” sublet, her life has a For Sure Need to be filled with bikes, boats, books, tickets and tools for in the Spendthrift’s Bible, Matthew’s counterpart (“for sale by dealer”) will somehow make it necessary for a Stand-Up Freezer, but she’ll buy a Bread Maker instead for the sake of the memories kneaded.

The smell that suddenly permeates her senses through the glow of the Apple computer.

Who would not need a Sunbeam Bread-maker that makes a 2 pound loaf? This For Sale by Owner because he or she (probably them?) are Selling Due To Move Overseas. Was that over-share really necessary?

And a great sigh cycles and bakes deep in her stomach, releases the discontent, slowly.

Back to Clicking and Browsing.

If she were an artist, perhaps her space may have room for Figure and Fine Art Nude Model For Hire. Does Wanderlust count?

Or just lust.

So much loss and loneliness all over the world. Capitalized on. For hire? Seeking and Selling. Weighs down heavy like the long numbered e-mail addresses made for not-remembering.

Reminders to Remember that Communism In Full Strength Capitalism on Brink of Collapse.
Perhaps.
She’ll keep her Rant to herself.
So many people afraid and only brave enough to throw opinions over the other side of the wall without seeing if they catch or cure.
Obama to Sign Small Arms Treaty.

“Not mine.” This aloud and disappointed.

If the artist thing won’t work, she’ll collect herself through the fog of Fahrenheit Four-Fifty-One Furniture.
Books and Antiques for Sale, ingenuity disguised in delicate scruffs, scuffs – perhaps that Antique Stoneware Butter Churn for two-hundred and fifty dollars will make a decoration next to the IKEA bookshelf
(in the discontinued – but rather snazzy – dark gray color)
which will hold the third-to-new Brides Book: ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT GETTING MARRIED. Great Condition.

Ex-fiancee. Not so much.

In the end, can she solemnly swear that she is at least 18 years old and will flag as “prohibited” anything illegal or in violation.
She can.
And only flags her tired skepticism. Making a note of it. Price-tagging it. Buoyed slightly (though suddenly) by the fact that Katey found Gregory Hayden’s wallet.

Could she be the violation? Peering through the tiny 3-sentence windows into worries, needs, positions, Chances in a Lifetime, quavering moments when so many believe this is IT: “To the woman at the Alliance Mailing House, I wish I had the courage to ask you too dinner”.

Odds are a million to one…That she’ll see it. That you will. That she will say ‘yes’.

It’s tempting to flag him. Just out of spite at the one odd. But instead, one more entry: For Sale: One Computer. One bitten Apple. Still Good. Just Need to Get Away.

WOULD YOU LOVE TO DRIVE TO CALIFORNIA BUT HAVE NO VEHICLE?

Would she…?

Suppose she shuts the lid? Snaps it shut. Would they all still exist? The Gorgeous Tame Female Ball Python, Improv Troupe, The Music Ensembles for Events-Parties-Weddings, the Cartoonist.

Suppose the line draws? The lid shuts? The strings clamp? The Molecular Monitoring pauses, erasing the Words in 1998 font, frozen in time.

Erasing her.

Suppose she lays down and folds her arms and closes the lid?

Reaction

On Nov 8, Typhoon Haiyan hit the Philippines. Working where I do, we are surrounded by the news, and  it’s easy to become numb to the numbers. But today, seeing pictures, reading almost-surreal first-hand accounts of a devastated place half way around the world, a couple thoughts came to me…

Typhoon Haiyan

You know what I can’t imagine?
Waiting for that storm to hit.
Feeling like you can’t do anything else – but
pray
perhaps, if you dare,
And just wait.

And knowing that the odds are against you.
Against your whole community.
Knowing you or your neighbor will be the one washed away.
And if it’s your neighbor,
You’ll be walking by his body in just 24 hours,
Grief-stricken
But relieved that you’re alive.

Or will you be?

And so you sit and wait and only hope.
As the winds get stronger.
As the rain falls harder.

Is there a calm that falls on you, like an eye
In the middle
or right before?

Or maybe I’d want to shout,
“Typhoon Haiyan – WE SALUTE YOU! Bring your rage on!”
But it would do no good.

Bravery and death
have no correlation.
And the only question I have left now is…
Did prayers?

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