Sunday, July 17, 2016

Worn out Xeroxes

The irony of memory is that it is created from scratch with each recall. Hastily slapped together from sensory recollections. Eventually your memory becomes a mere caricature, a glorified shadow of the real thing. And the greater irony is that you'll never know when that happens.

Vengeance


Today the psychologist told me that I have dysthymia. A mild form of depression. 

Even if you sorta-kinda know you might have the thing, it's still a strange feeling when your doc actually diagnoses you of depression. But then it's also a relief. Now you know what you gotta deal with and go about your life. You aren't damaged. You've just made a risk assessment and are now improving your system's mainframe.

You gotta know your demons before you battle them.

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

The City and Us





Sometimes we leave so many finger prints on a city that it simply becomes a part of who we are.

Saturday, July 2, 2016

Shared Skies


At the world's end,
When our shared skies meet,
I'll embrace you with the infinite,
And all of time, will be ours.