Chimera

Volumes where the golden insect crawled fetch glory by the yard, but there is no communication between the ink and the eye, for try as they might, libraries cannot express the depth of what they lack in emotion. Sharp-toothed keys assist the explorer in gaining entry to a world renowned for its emptiness, but there is never any action in the quotidian balance. Read, read, read, they said. However, he was left alone to ponder the fruitlessness of his desperation. Sadly, Hugo observed the declination of reason as three virgins giggled and proceeded to retain their innocence, which, by the way, was neither innocent nor retainable. They must have known what was on offer without the experience, he calculated, for there was guile in their laughter. One of them, she of the radiant halo, dipped and scooped up the golden spider leaving only its latest unreadable tome in a web of silky verbosity. Virgin or muse, he could not tell. Still, he was news once again without the slightest perception of validation. Everything he touched glowed and shimmered in an ephemeral way. Yet, he never doubted all was at their behest.

Popping, he shriveled almost immediately and shortly thereafter he noticed he was losing hair again and there were liver spots.

Chiapa de Corzo

It's My Belief We're All Crazy

It's my belief we're all crazy. I think we have to be to survive without scars.

There is no point in trying to deny the healthy aspects of approaching the game from the other end of the terminal. If you try to play by the rules, someone with a wider perspective will find reason to oust you. Take the limited but keep an ear to the conductor's announcements. There is more to be found at the next stop.

Sun comes up. Sun goes down. That's all you need to remember.

Don't make long term plans, but do listen to the weather report. It's only guesswork.

Seventh son of a seventh son. No reason to think you're blest in any degree.

Meet the regulars. Say hello. Don't give out more information required than enough to get you a seat. It's a long ride and you will grow tired standing. But again, be adaptable. As often as things are capable of change, they probably will. Keep your eyes peeled for an available seat, but if after three stops none becomes available, make your own. Sit on the floor.

Two men walk into a bar. That's a different story.

If the sun doesn't rise tomorrow, forget the preceding and go with Plan B.

Keep watching this space for further updates.

The Man is not on your side. He works alone. Notice his flawless skin? No scars? Think he's sane? Could be He's playing a different game. Maybe, though, He's been playing this one so long, the rules do not apply. Plan B involves living long enough to make your own rules.

Plan C is a combo situation and requires quick stepping back and forth between the previous two. It is inadvisable due to the wear and tear it affords. There is some scarring. There is no Plan D. Best to proceed until a roadblock presents the need to decide; do so rapidly and take another shot. Don't vacillate. There is never much to be gained.

Veterans achieve a measure of immortality but never beyond the measure of the species.

Best to you each morning. Sun comes up. Get dressed. Otherwise, plan your funeral. Don't bother with obituaries. Most people don't read them. And those that do, well, isn't it obvious why they do?

Try spot remover and remember laughter causes lines but it's the least painful course. Listen for the whistle. Have your ticket ready and hop on.

Nobody here but us chickens.

Resolution

A few minutes before midnight on New Year's Eve, with the sound of fireworks preventing his usual attempt to sleep through the curve, Michael sat looking at the ball clock on the small table in the corner of his dining room. His cell phone was charging and it was unlikely anyone else would call with wishes for prosperity as he had earlier spoken to his sister back home; his MP3 player, filled with soothing New Age music, which might have helped drown out the celebrants, was also charging in another socket, so he stared at the clock to try catching the changing display in the act of inaugurating the new year. He was not yet bored with his responsibilities, nor those to come, but was aware that inertia was a heartbeat away.

At 12:00, the clock's display wished him a Happy New Year, and that was his only resolution - to be happy no matter how often he might find himself running on a treadmill during the coming semester. Be happy and keep in shape; maintain good health - prosperity was out of the question on a teacher's salary. Save enough money, however, to go to England in the spring.

He said a silent thank you to the clock, and its green, glowing numbers and letters moving around inside the sphere seemed to twinkle in appreciation.

It did not require charging and ran consistently on observatory time. It had been programmed so even if there were a blackout, it would pick up the correct time when power returned.

Perhaps, Michael thought, he would visit his family in New York in April and cut the London trip short by a few days. He was such a long way from home, and hadn't seen any of them face-to-face in over eighteen months. Yes, that was what he would do, and he would gift his sister and brother with clocks like his. Time knows no location. It can't be bound in place.