Sunday, January 17, 2010

This Way To The End of The World


A day of wound-licking. Watching the rain come down and pacing from window to window. The tang of ozone still in the air. We're both jumpy, skittish, ill at ease.

How such a small disaster can claim you.


I should go for a walk or something, but it feels beyond me.


My neighbor has fired up his grinder. More Pakistani street dentistry sounds. That machine of his makes a noise that mimics exactly the mood I'm in right now.

Fuck me running.





Blogger Maggie May said...

yup. sometimes it's like this.

love the haunting image. reminds me of His Dark Materials.

3:36 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Yes, Maggie. Sometimes it is.

You are an inspiration. I'm glad you stopped by.



7:45 PM  
Blogger Mim said...

I remember those terrible storms with my son--not small, these disasters.

Remembering now, even still, I have to tell myself to breathe.

Take care of yourself, dear Tearful.

5:09 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Thank you. I know in ten or twenty years this will be over. I think I'll be scarred for life.

But scars are good. They remind you that you lived.

Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead!



2:40 PM  

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