And so we look at our self healing wounds and dream of self cleaning dishes, waiting for someone to invent a reasonably priced dishes-roomba (which is different from a dishwasher, don't come for me)
Did you know that when a Roomba breaks the company repairs it instead of replacing it because they know Roomba owners anthropomorphize their little vacuum buddies? Anyways I think I would fall in love with the dish Roomba.
"it feels like everything aspires to destruction" is a #relateable line. Your way with words continues to impress, while also making me think deep thoughts.
It is evident how often you practice writing, Kyle. This is the kind of blogging (?) of the days of yore (replaced by Instagram, then TikTok) that I've been missing. Makes me want to write regularly again.
Also-- I see both the resistance and the victory against decay. Every spring when the crocuses, then grape hyacinths emerge from Maine soil, I dance like a nature sorceress, arms flung high and feet stamping in the stale remnants of snowbanks clutching to the edges of things. I do this despite the dozens of windows facing my house where any one of my anonymous neighbors could be watching. The awakening of my garden is victory, waiting out the winter and letting the neighbors wonder about me is my resistance. It's the little things, sometimes.
I'm militant about sunscreen and shaded face when I am outside. One time, the sun tried to kill me! That's the dramatic way to say that I had skin cancer on my nose. The "safest" skin cancer, the kind with the best outlook- but having cancer on your face is quite unsettling. But here I am, always with an uncomfortable sheen of SPF 50+ slathered on my aging face. My nose still looks kind of weird, but resistance/victory, all that. Also, sorry I just blogged at you.
I loved reading this, it makes me think of house parties: being part of the awful ‘last men standing’ group. Arguing ourselves sober in the kitchen at 5am over whether or not we ‘live to die’ or we ‘die because we live’ and then the inevitable argument about why we do it at all?
And so we look at our self healing wounds and dream of self cleaning dishes, waiting for someone to invent a reasonably priced dishes-roomba (which is different from a dishwasher, don't come for me)
Did you know that when a Roomba breaks the company repairs it instead of replacing it because they know Roomba owners anthropomorphize their little vacuum buddies? Anyways I think I would fall in love with the dish Roomba.
"it feels like everything aspires to destruction" is a #relateable line. Your way with words continues to impress, while also making me think deep thoughts.
Heracles is to Prometheus as Task Rabbit is to Kyle Prue
My thoughts on Task Rabbit are innumerable.
It is evident how often you practice writing, Kyle. This is the kind of blogging (?) of the days of yore (replaced by Instagram, then TikTok) that I've been missing. Makes me want to write regularly again.
Also-- I see both the resistance and the victory against decay. Every spring when the crocuses, then grape hyacinths emerge from Maine soil, I dance like a nature sorceress, arms flung high and feet stamping in the stale remnants of snowbanks clutching to the edges of things. I do this despite the dozens of windows facing my house where any one of my anonymous neighbors could be watching. The awakening of my garden is victory, waiting out the winter and letting the neighbors wonder about me is my resistance. It's the little things, sometimes.
I'm militant about sunscreen and shaded face when I am outside. One time, the sun tried to kill me! That's the dramatic way to say that I had skin cancer on my nose. The "safest" skin cancer, the kind with the best outlook- but having cancer on your face is quite unsettling. But here I am, always with an uncomfortable sheen of SPF 50+ slathered on my aging face. My nose still looks kind of weird, but resistance/victory, all that. Also, sorry I just blogged at you.
You should write regularly again! You're good at it!
This was equal parts devastating and joyful to read. I think that overwhelmed my emotions so now nothing is computing. Brava
This made me feel like the luckiest bacteria in town. Thank you
I loved reading this, it makes me think of house parties: being part of the awful ‘last men standing’ group. Arguing ourselves sober in the kitchen at 5am over whether or not we ‘live to die’ or we ‘die because we live’ and then the inevitable argument about why we do it at all?