Good morning! It's November...ummm...5th. I can't keep my days straight. Everything keeps changing. Ch-ch-ch-
Guys. Is anyone else worried about the hanger? I mean the anger. I'm worried about the anger. I'm worried about the divide. The great divide. Obam-o, can you do it, bro? I'm talking about my angry friends. Whaa, who me? No, not me. I'm talkin bout the angry ones, out across the great divide. Everything keeps changing.
When I leave my house this morning, it won't be with pride. I'll leave my house sad. Sad for the ones who lost, and sad for what that means for me and them now. Hey. Hey out there. Wanna cuddle? I really wanna cuddle.
The leaves are changing, yo. Even the leaves.
My forehead's getting all wrinkly and it's not from my helmet or from squinting at the letters. It's because, like this country, I'm growing old. Older each day. Like this country! And one day I'll be leaving on a jet plane.
I don't know, yall. Just when I should be feeling hope, all I feel is mope.
And on the other hand---can I say one more damn thing?---this day, duh-huh!!, is like the rest. I'll be on my way to work now, doing the same old and listening to the same old, just back-grunting insteada forward. Insteada "Oh my hopes and dreams" it's "Toldja so." Some part of me just doesn't want to hear ih. Just doesn't want the validation. Some part of me just wants to shout: It's so much worse than that! So much complicated-err! "We can only hhh..."
You make me wanna... !
We can only imitate the worst among us.
Or: we can imitate Gizz...
We can only Shout!
High, 66. Low 52. Chance of afternoon showers.
I am yours:
cloudy with a chance of meatballs
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2 comments:
How can you mope when I saw you swaying and singing last night while we were watching and listening and everyone was crying and cheering, dancing and smiling, and then Tim asked, hey how are you feeling, and I said, good, even though I don't know what that meant in context, and so he said, this feels kind of like the bottom of the nineth with two outs, and so we were nudging and patting and saying sorry and excuse me, and still smiling but pushing past crowds of people age 25-35 feeling one single emotion which was written all over your face as you swayed and shook your head back and forth, put your hand on your abdomen, and leaned back pretty far, looking up at a giant screen where the hope/mope maker said it is just the beginning, and we all saw Oprah struggle to see over some tall guy's shoulders.
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