I'm getting my Thoreau on with a little visit to the pond I just had. Not sure it's quite the caliber of old Henry there but they're thoughts nonetheless.
If one finds pleasure in rejection, trying to get published is a fulfilling endeavor.
The right wine, the right food and the right company are about as far right as I care to get.
During these tough times, many simply cannot make ends meet. Well add my dog to the list of victims. She had to foreclose on her doghouse.
Whenever I have a regret, I place it in a special, large jar. I'd say it's about two thirds full. I plan to take it with me when I die because I figure I'll have plenty of time to grapple with them then.
I like spreading rumors about myself. That way when I catch wind of them later, I'm not nearly as shocked.
Three things drive me insane: forgetting stuff and whatever the other two are.
Whenever I think I have an answer to all this life stuff, I think some more and realize, I don't have an answer, just a resting place.
There's something to be said about thoughts best left unsaid, which might be the angle I should have taken here.
Welcome to Cranelegs Pond! Like Walden except really shallow!
No comments:
Post a Comment