dishes

the other day, i was washing the dishes thinking to myself, "why don't roommates do dishes?" then "what if i was roommates with my clone who was taking different classes and stuff? who would do more dishes?" then i thought, "why is oatmeal so sticky?"

the peeps and the dude

one time a few peeps were trying to earn some money so they found this farmer with a bunch of work on his hands and struck a deal. the farmer was like, "hey, here's the deal, if you work for me today, i'll give you each $200 for the days work."
the peeps said, "sounds good farmer man"
so they worked. the changed irrigation lines, built two fences, stacked close to 1000 bails of hay, and repaired one tractor and a pickup truck. at one point late in the afternoon, another dude showed up and wanted to work. The farmer, wanting all the help he could get, put the dude to work with the peeps. a little while later the peeps and the dude were done with their projects and it was pay time.
the farmer man gave the peeps and the dude 200 dollars each.
the peeps saw the dude take the 200 dollars from the farmer. "hey man! you only worked a couple hours!!!" they said angrily. then they said, "hey farmer man, that dude only worked a couple hours! what the heck is the deal here? how come he gets $200 too?"
the farmer said, "peeps, a deal is a deal. did i short change you in some way?"
and the peeps went home really upset with their 200 dollars.
and the dude went home with his 200 dollars too.

sleight

it's people like you, bearded man, that make me avoid social pretense
i was so right about so many things, but you had to be right
even down to the very end you were right
after i was long gone you reach through some fifth dimension to slap me in the face again and again
somehow you knew
you were right and i was wrong
and you're the one with the beard

short

life is short. but exactly how short is always relative.

i had a dream last night in which i was diagnosed with some kind of degenerative brain disease. i remember that the prognosis wasn't pretty and that i was basically given a death sentence. i think i took it well at first, but then my brother walked in the room and shot me in the head (a pretty bold move i'd say). it would have been better if he had better aim and actually killed me, but instead it only barely hit the very top of my head. i remember looking in the pillow and couch i was sitting on for the bullet (maybe it only grazed my head) but i couldn't find it and so, came to the conclusion that it indeed pierced my skull and that i was probably hemorrhaging. suddenly i had this list of things that i would have died and never experienced.

i'm afraid to die and i'm afraid to admit it.

we have to

find our voice

you wanna know how deeply my soul goes? deeper than bones, deeper than bones.

the flight

dear aunt sarah,

the best word to describe the flight to midland was "long." i was caught in the middle seat for the three hour (plus) flight without any way out. you're probably familiar with how it feels: there's nowhere to escape, nothing to do - you've read the in-flight magazine three separate times, each time inventing a new game to play with each turn of the page. all i could think about was how i left you back in tulsa, free as a bird, and how you were probably busy baking some cookies or enjoying a walk outside or something like that.

the whole flight i was just wishing i didn't have to make this trip to midland and how i couldn't wait to get back and hang out. when the stewardess came by with the trash, i saved my napkin to write down some thoughts about our conversation from earlier, but i didn't have pen or a pencil. it made me think of how many pencils you have stashed in different spots around the house so that if you ever need one, you have one. you must have close to three hundred pencils all together.

you pointed out some things, in that conversation, that really got me thinking: it's funny how a person can be standing in the middle of a world full of life in every form and still feel alone. it doesn't quite make sense to me and yet i think i can relate. it's almost as though a person can walk with a dozen people, but if she doesn't feel connected to any of them, she still feels starkly alone. it seems like what we all crave is some level of connectedness to some other. and this pang for companionship comes from some deep fear of being alone. it's as though being alone is the worst possible evil that could ever ultimately come upon a person. we want desperately to be confident that we're not alone (and that we won't be left that way when the curtain comes down) and this seems silly. the fact is that we are both alone and not alone at the same time. i think that until i come to peace with that fact, i'll always fear being alone, even though part of me knows there's nothing to fear at all.

my pencil has run out of lead for now, and plus, cousin skip is calling for dinner. I don't know when i'll return to see you, but i very much hope it is sooner than later. i really enjoy our time together. enjoy yourself over there and say hello to the birds for me.

sincerely,

jacob