All posts for the month September, 2010
My horoscope for the week, courtesy of The Onion:
“Your life will soon lose all direction, which, considering how it has been going, should come as a vast relief.”
I thought this might serve as a jumping off point for a longer post, but I don’t really see a need for further elaboration. I realize that sounds overly dramatic; it’s just funny, that’s all.
Latest lifer, Lincoln’s Sparrow, found at Cromwell Valley Park on Sunday evening at the tail end of a very productive walk (photo courtesy of Kelly Colgan Azar via Flickr under Creative Commons license).
Posted by sean on September 28, 2010
https://sd-stewart.com/2010/09/28/horoscope/
My bikes are all jacked up and I can’t seem to fix them. I ordered a part and the place has sent the wrong size twice now. TWICE.
The crime chopper keeps flying over my house. Daytime, nighttime, all the time.
The autumnal equinox began last night and tomorrow’s high is supposed to be 95. WTF?
The words quit spitting out, mind’s dry as an old corn husk.
I’m tired.
Posted by sean on September 24, 2010
https://sd-stewart.com/2010/09/24/aggravation/
Eyes sore looking out at the world. Perhaps it’s air pollution; maybe it’s hate. The hour grew long in a place I rarely go. The wheels turned fast toward a place I always go. In between lies emptiness, in between tempts fate. The fading light hides that wandering path in a cloak of longing. But I roll on. I always do. On these worn out streets, these angry streets, where nothing ever remains the same, a worn out wraith, near transparent, rattles its bones for the few who listen.
Posted by sean on September 17, 2010
https://sd-stewart.com/2010/09/17/the-hour-of-happiness/
“Dreams: the place most of us get what we need”—Amy Hempel
Posted by sean on September 16, 2010
https://sd-stewart.com/2010/09/16/in-the-wilderness/
Small tragedies and minor victories twist around your idle fingers like woody vines. You trade witticisms like barbed wire slipped underneath your tongue. A single scent scatters a part of the brain already always a bit on edge. But at arm’s length, you don’t ever find the visceral. You won’t ever find it there. So push away the veil of ions, then, and you will see the rush of blood. Warm air on skin, brushing off a touch that never came. Color in cheeks, déjà vu and try to ignore imagination prone to wanton escapades. Think and wish, then, and think again. Fall into the ordinary, fall into it open and true, with wild grit in your gut.
Posted by sean on September 3, 2010
https://sd-stewart.com/2010/09/03/see-you-when-your-troubles-get-like-mine/
…but this is just a waste of a good beech tree.
Posted by sean on September 2, 2010
https://sd-stewart.com/2010/09/02/i-realize-everyones-got-an-agenda/
s. d. stewart 